


Scriptures from Fire

by almond_joy_wonder



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Basically Footloose but WITH DRAGONS, Dragons, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Princess Katherine??, Probably a lot more angst as it goes on, Silly Boys, Teen Romance, i wish i wish with all my heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almond_joy_wonder/pseuds/almond_joy_wonder
Summary: In the Isle of Fuhl, a kingdom under the reign of a tyrannical Monarchy, there is word of potential plague, war and disruption between villages. Jack, a boy left behind in the Capital of Fuhl, decides that the only way to unite the Kingdom is through making illegal peace with the dragons that live in the forests, and by training other boys in his village to do so. Meanwhile, Katherine, the Princess of Fuhl, is unaware of the pain that her kingdom is in and the suffering her family has caused, and wants desperately to be the leader her people need. When the two worlds collide, the end of an era will be set into motion, changing not only their lives, but the lives of everyone around them.





	1. The Dragon Trainers

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! This is just an AU I've been messing around with. There will be eventual romance between a lot of the characters, and also the POV will switch around. In this first chapter, it will be mainly from Jack's POV!! This is my first fic so it might be terrible, fair warning lol. Anyway, the artwork in this chapter was done by the AMAZING Dekko!! He is fantastic. Such a gem. Please enjoy!!

Chapter 1

 

_ Prologue: _

 

A young boy stared up at his father, tears filling his eyes. He was wearing rags, the worn thread hardly keeping the cold out from his small frame.

As the man had said before, there was really nothing more to discuss. He had to leave. It was the only way, it was the only choice they had. But the look in the boy’s eyes cut him deeply, piercing his heart more thoroughly than any sword possibly could. He closed his eyes, feeling the his own tears stain his cheeks. “Francis, this is something that must happen. For the good of the nation.”

The boy only nodded, and held onto his father’s journal as tightly as he could. He would sleep with this journal beside him that night, and for many nights after. “I…” He paused, shivering, his teeth chattering between words, “I know.” But he didn’t. The man was sure that his son could not possibly understand, and he couldn’t even begin to fathom what the boy must be going through. The boy was acting tough, just like he always had, but the frantic terror in his dark brown eyes immediately gave him away. Behind his little shield he was visible to his father. And he was scared. His voice still sounded confident, though. A natural born leader. “But...don’t worry. I’ll carry on tradition, just like you want me to.”

Francis wouldn’t let a tear drop. His father smiled, as if he were looking into a mirror, “It will be dangerous.”

Francis nodded his little head, arms tight around the red binding of the journal. “I’m...I’m not scared.”

“Of course you’re not,” He dared to take a step forward, “You’re my son. Just please, be careful. I’ll be back for you soon.”

“I know, dad,” And without another word, Francis was wrapping his small arms, black as the night, around his father. The man leaned down to kiss the dark curls atop his son’s head.

“I love you.” The words stung, and his heart began to bleed as soon as he’d uttered them. There was no telling whether he’d ever see his son again. And even if he did, the damage may be irreparable. How do you make up for stories untold? For laughs unshared? All of the lessons never to be learned. Or at least, not from him. But he knew that Francis was a fighter, even at such a vulnerable age. But there was no other choice. All he could do was hold the boy close. Tell him that he loved him. Make sure he knew. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, dad.” The arms gripped his waist a little tighter. They stood there for a moment, in pure bliss, in pure agony. Even if it was just for that moment. Even if that moment never arose again. 

Soon, the man had to pull back, but he still cupped a hand around his son’s cheek, “And remember, until I get back, your name will be-” 

 

_ Jack: _

 

“Jack c’mon, wake  _ up _ ,” The whisper invaded his dreams like a stampede, forcing him to violently throw his body the other way, curling up away from the sound. He didn’t want to move from this position, to have to claw his way back to reality. His slumber had been so deep, it had been so peaceful. Personally, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at peace with himself. And this stupid, protruding, voice just had to- “Jack, if you don’t get up now, we’re going to be late!” The demon chirped again, his presence getting closer. Jack squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter, praying that reality wouldn’t take him prisoner once more. But as soon as he felt a small hand pat desperately at his shoulder, he knew that he might as well be in shackles. Getting up at this point was terrifyingly inevitable. 

He shifted his body ever so slightly, groaning from the pain. His back ached from working until the wee hours of the night just a few hours before. Medda had made it extremely clear that the next few weeks would be busy ones in preparation for some big happening up at the castle. She’d spent at least half of the day parading around their tiny workspace, preening herself and blabbering on and on about how “wonderful it was to be chosen by the King, himself!”. It took every nerve in Jack’s body not to point out that getting a commission from the king wasn’t exactly a surprise, considering they were the only silversmith near the capital. It would’ve hurt her, and potentially would induce a lecture, which he was certainly opposed to. So he set to work on making two hundred “perfectly sculpted forks for his majesty”. But even after making only forty “perfectly sculpted forks” did a number on his back. He could only imagine what the other guys were feeling.

He blinked a few times, his eyes getting naturally adjusted to the dark, “‘S it Thursday already?” He asked, his words slurred and groggy from sleep. And certainly not enough sleep. He dared to glance over at the source of the voice. The only boy in all of Fuhl that would be so daring as to awake Jack in such a startling manner. “If it isn’t, I’m going back to sleep, Crutchy-”

“Well, technically speaking,” The boy piped up, scooting closely enough to Jack that they could speak in only the softest of whispers, “It’s Friday. We passed midnight a while ago.” Even in darkness, Jack could see a glint of excitement in the kid’s eye. He’d clearly been looking forward to this, and probably stayed up half the night waiting. Jack could remember when he could do that. But that was back when he was young, and didn’t have so much to worry about. When he didn’t have such constant emotional and physical stress on his body.

Jack instinctively rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he spoke, “Well, now that I’m up, I guess we better get going. Did you wake up Specs?” He asked, almost incoherently, still feeling incredibly disoriented. Crutchy whipped around a little bit, presumably checking to see if Specs’ corner of the hay was vacant.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he already gathered up all the stuff.” A coy smile spread across his lips as he turned to Jack again, “You’re lucky you’re my favorite. I let you sleep in.” This earned Crutchy a raised eyebrow and a little noogie from Jack.

“Alright, alright, let’s get a move on then. Can’t have Davey up my ass about being late again, right?” He got up, wincing a little by the natural movement of his back, but stood up. He brushed the hay off of his pants, and began to unceremoniously climb down the ladder from the loft where the three boys slept and hopping to his feet in the dirt below. Crutchy followed in a slightly less graceful manner, hopping down the rungs on his left foot, expertly avoiding getting his right one caught in anything. By the time he reached the bottom, Jack held out a routine arm to help him down fully, and grabbed his walking stick.

Crutchy was left in the Capital by his parents long before Jack had even arrived. He had been born with a twisted leg, something that no doctor could possibly fix. Something so complicated, that Jack couldn’t even try and explain. But naturally, Medda had taken him in. That was just like her--always trying to save someone. Jack, to this day, wasn’t sure why she’d decided to “save” him. He hadn’t needed to be saved. His dad had left him around Crutchy’s age presently, and he had been old enough to take care of himself. And even outside of that, his dad was going to come back for him. It would take a long time, but Jack had understood. It would’ve been too dangerous to go with him originally...but ever since the King had made that horrible law, he was finding it harder and harder to go on without the presence of his father. But he’d promised he would come back. And he was going to. Because a Sullivan man never went back on their promises. Ever.

Getting out of the shoppe was always a trial, since they had to be quiet enough as to not wake up Medda while she was sleeping. While they slept in the loft filled with hay, she had been kind enough to have her cot on the ground floor near all of the smithing supplies. Luckily enough, she was an incredibly heavy sleeper, and they had yet to be caught. The light of the moon peered through the holes within the roof guiding their way (so as to not run into the stove, and various metal supplies), and had soon made it out of the large wooden door and onto the main street.

The night sky was lit up by millions of twinkling stars, smiling at them from above. Dark clouds hovered as well, and the moon illuminated the shadow of the great castle on the hill, only a few miles away from them. Towering and threatening. An evil that they would have to escape.

For a major city, the Capital was eerily quiet on most weeknights. Most everyone had retreated to bed by this hour of the morning, making it almost sinfully easy to sneak away without a trace. The boys were met immediately with the glittery smile of their other housemate. Specs had always been cheery, and ridiculously bright when it came to things that were deemed less than useful by peasants. He wasn’t one for fighting or physical labor (certainly not silversmithing), and probably belonged in a program for the higher court. He had the brains the size of the country, but the smarts of a puppy. He bounced a little as he stepped forward to greet them, his hands fidgeting at his sides, “The night couldn’t go by quick enough, huh? We gotta start doing this more than three times a week, Jack!” His enthusiasm stung, and Jack had to roll his eyes.

“Calm down, Jesus, you’re going to wake up half the neighborhood,” He started to walk forward preemptively, assuming the other two would follow. “And besides, I already have a headache with all of your yammering. How are you not dying of exhaustion? Oh right, because I was doing all of the work last night.” He chuckled a little, shoving his hands into his pockets. Even though spring was on the horizon, the wind still nipped at his skin, and he balled up his fists to create a sense of warmth.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that,” Specs began to apologize immediately, just like he always did. Honestly, it was sort of sad to watch the poor guy beat himself up all the time. But it was mostly amusing to watch him stutter, and practically run to catch up to Jack, even though he was certainly taller than him. “I wasn’t feeling all too well yesterday, and you know how-”

“Didn’t I just tell you to calm down?” Jack snorted a little, only glancing at his bespectacled friend in his periphery. He slowed down so that Crutchy could keep up, since he was both younger and shorter than them, even excluding his right leg

Specs visibly deflated at Jack’s repetition of request, and it only made Jack decide to address him again, as soon as he noted that Crutchy was keeping up at a reasonable pace. “Did you see anyone else sneaking out here? Are we early?”

The blonde naturally lit up again, speaking quickly, his voice lowered to a notch above a whisper, “No, I don’t think we are. Mush and Romeo already started heading West, and they said that the rest of the guys were already there. But I’m sure we aren’t late again...hopefully just on time!” He beamed, continuing to strut forward.

Crutchy decided to pipe up then, his voice a little more timid than it had been when he’d first woken Jack up. “N-no, I woke you guys up just in time. I promise. I kept track of it this time.” Jack, without turning his head, ruffled the kid’s hair, and elicited a little chuckle.

“You’re too good to me, Crutch. Glad I can depend on you,” He said. It was a statement which earned him a toothy grin from both of his cohorts. Which, of course, forced a small smile onto Jack’s face. Terrible.

After that, they continued in silence, in agreement that being caught would cost far too  much than idle conversation was worth. With the stars as their guide, they made their way past the dirt roads, the grassy fields, and the small houses on the outskirts of the city. It was a journey they had made hundreds of times before. They had it mapped out completely, and every rock and tree remained in its usual spot. It was a comforting constant, and the boys would happily take advantage of it when given the opportunity. And before they knew it, they had found themselves at the edge of the forest. The trees were so big, that the stars had become hidden from them, and instead they had reached the shelter of their canopy. That forbidden forest, that only the rebellious and stupid could enter. A forest that had become their home.

Specs, being the excited little shit he was, immediately began to run rampant through the forest. He hopped over branches with ease, and raced forward, into the darkness. Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes dramatically, “What a dumbass,” He murmured with endearance, before turning to Crutchy and offering him his arm.

Per usual, Crutchy only shook his head in refusal and began to work his own way down the slope of vine and brush. Knowing that it had come from an issue of pride, Jack nodded his head and walked ahead of Crutchy, but slowed his padding to stay close enough that if there were to be an accident, he could be ready. But as physically incapable as fate had forced Crutchy to be, he was oddly agile in his movements. He was coordinated and able to handle himself most of the time. Of course, when he’d been born that way, it only really made sense for him to do so. But Jack still couldn’t help but worry about the little guy. He was getting older, but Jack would always see him as the nine year old kid he’d met when Medda had first found him.

Soon enough, they had made it a good ways through the forest without injury, and a glimmer of light began to peek through the brush. “Hey, look Jack! We made it.” The blonde exclaimed, quickening his slide.

“Seems like it, huh?” The older boy retorted, helpless to his own sarcastic remarks. Together, they approached the light, which immediately assured them that they  _ had _ , in fact, made it to the right spot. Which wasn’t surprising. It certainly was not their first rodeo when it came to their meetings.

Jack loved the smell of fire, a burning, crackling,  _ warm  _ smell that lit up his heart in a million places. A charming grin naturally found its way onto his face as he and Crutchy got closer and could hear voices chattering amiably as if it weren’t nearing dawn before a full day’s work. The laughter, playful insults and whispered secrets were music to his ears. And he couldn’t help but allow the grin to stay planted on his face as he reached the fire.

As he suspected, all of the boys were seated around the fire, warming their hands from the night’s biting wind. Chattering filled the air, along with casual insults and laughter. They were so young and so happy, so incredibly unaware of the dangers they’d signed up for. Jack had tried to address them before, but the boys would hear none of them. They were young and longed for adventure, craved mistakes more than life itself. And they really were ridiculously cute. They all seemed to be in their own little world, and Specs had naturally found a spot in between Mush and another boy in the mere moments he’d been there before Crutchy and Jack had arrived.

Sniper, a boy barely younger than Crutchy, was the first to notice that they’d arrived. He’d immediately hopped up from the rock he’d been sitting on, and gave Jack a violent hug around his waist, “Jack!!! We missed ya! Where’ve ya been, huh?” He looked up before joining the group. The group, of course, was soon to follow suit.

A chorus of “JACK!!”s and “We need to get started soon!”s and “HOW ARE YA?”s practically suffocated him, but the smile simply couldn’t fall off his face. It felt nice to be needed. And God knew that he needed these kids more than they probably needed him. Their smiling faces, a little dirty from the brush, eyes sparkling like the stars that hung above them.

“Hey, hey, hi,” He laughed, and was soon ambushed by another hug from Les, the youngest of the bunch, who couldn’t be more than eight years old. The little boy hugged him silently, squeezing his legs tightly. Jack ruffled his hair a little and gave him a pat on his back, “Hey Les. And I’m good guys, although I’m a little sleepy. Remind me why we made these meetings so late again?”

“So we don’t get caught, dummy,” Another boy with curly hair, Henry, rolled his eyes. Jack chuckled, and grinned at Henry, laughing even harder when the boy received an elbow in the ribcage from a darker toned boy sitting next to him.

“Don’t be stupid, he was using sarcasm. He was being funny,” Finch retorted, turning from Henry to smile at Jack, “Hey Ja-”

He was cut off by an elbow being jammed into his arm, “Hey, don’t call me stupid, stupid!”

“Ouch!! Henry, will ya cut it out-” He laughed, slapping his friend’s shoulder. This earned him a slap in return. Jack couldn’t help but snort, glad to see them acting like the dumb teenage boys they were.

Les patted his thigh and scrambled back to sit on Henry’s lap, immediately stopping the spat. Even though they were young, Henry and Finch weren’t stupid enough to fight with a kid in between them. And thank god for that.

“So where were you?” A nagging voice inserted itself, making Jack practically groan in annoyance. “You were incredibly late. Again. How are we supposed to get anything done if you keep-”

“I mean, technically he’s here  _ early _ ,” A boy with menacing blue eyes, going by the name of Albert, glanced from picking dirt out of his nails to Jack, “And by that I mean early in the morning.”

“Good one, Al,” Jack droned, completely unamused by the lackluster pun. Albert threw his arms up in defense, and laughed a little bit. Jack ignored him and turned back to the lanky boy pouting before him. “And listen, I’m sorry, Davey. But-”

“No, it’s fine. Just. Try not to be so late next time?” Davey looked exasperated, as he leaned against a tree and folded his arms. Davey was seriously a nag, and he was always questioning everything Jack tried to do. Most days, he even wondered why he ever let Davey be the co-leader in the first place. Of course, he and Davey had been friends for a long time. He’d met him when he was trying to steal an apple from the town market. Davey was Les’s older brother, and both of them were the sons of Reeve Jacobs, meaning they had a lot of dough on them, since being a Reeve was pivotal to Fuhl as a Kingdom. Davey had decided to buy the apple for Jack, and although he didn’t originally “want the guy’s pity”, Jack had easily warmed up to him. Their personalities complimented each other. Jack was easygoing when it came to work, and harsh when it came to play, and Davey was the exact opposite. Which was probably why he was being chewed out about being late again.

Crutchy was looking down at his feet, undoubtedly blaming himself for their not being as prompt as they should be. Jack would talk to him about it later, but he couldn’t manage to do it yet. At least, not in front of all of the other boys. He laughed and cocked an eyebrow at Davey, “Yeah, sure, I’ll try not to be late again. Now if we’re really running out of time, we better get started then, right guys?”

“Sure thing,” Another sly voice piped up, as the one and only Racetrack Higgins threw his arm around Jack. “We’ve been practicing lots, ya see? The kiddos are really excited to show you what we’ve been working on.”

Race was certainly chock-full of personality, and Jack could only laugh as he shrugged him off. He was an orphan too, but instead of spending his time shaping and cutting silver, he had managed to get a job as the head stable boy at the main castle. The gig certainly brought about a bit of arrogance that the plucky boy took advantage of. Luckily, Elmer (another one of the guys) worked with him, and could ground him sometimes.

“Come on, Race, let ‘im get his focus on and all that. It’s late already.” Elmer folded his arms and started to walk towards one of the darker areas of the forest. “If we don’t get them now, they’re going to be really grouchy later. They should get to bed on time.”

“He’s got a point,” Davey piped up again, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “Alright, guys. You know the drill.”

And with that, all of the boys were scampering in different directions, whooping and hollering. Jack grinned and looked over at Davey, who was still looking like he’d been dragged through hell backwards. “What were you planning on teaching ‘em today, huh?”

Davey sighed wearily, and went back to leaning against the tree he had been before, “Probably fire control. After last week.”

“Henry’s an idiot.” Jack shook his head, and looked outwards, “I mean, how did he even do that? He doesn’t have his own dragon yet.”

“Buttons is still recovering. I swear that kid is going to give him an ulcer one of these days,” Davey grinned, and soon they were laughing together. The whole thing really had been a hullaballoo. All of the other boys had found dragons to claim, but Henry still hadn’t found one that really stuck to him. And last week, he’d annoyed a grey sonopher to the point of it burning half of the forest down. Buttons (one of the older boys), of course, had volunteered to help Henry clean up the mess and scold him afterwards.  

A mess like that seemed to occur every week. That’s why they felt it was necessary  to start dragon-training sessions with the boys. If they were going to play with fire, they had to learn to do so properly. And luckily for Jack, his father had taught him from an early age. Of course, that was also the reason his father had to leave. Once the dragons were forbidden from Fuhl, there wasn’t a need for a dragon whisperer. No need for training. But the traditions were still sacred to some, and Jack was one of those people. He dedicated his life to training dragons, and now dedicated it to teaching the other boys of the village how to do so as well.

Which was proving to be quite a hassle. And it was clear from the look on Davey’s face that he was starting to get pretty worn out too. Even in the darkness, he could see that there were small bags under his eyes, a color notably darker than his olive-toned skin. It wasn’t surprising--Davey had always put too much pressure on himself, and the recklessness of their students certainly stressed him out. It was good to see him smiling about Henry’s predicament, though. Sometimes Jack wondered if Davey was ever actually having fun at these lessons, or if he took them as seriously as Jack’s father used to. The tall boy seemed to be a lot more conscious of the law than Jack was, constantly fearing that they were being too noisy and too careless about their tasks. But Jack knew that somewhere, deep down inside, Davey knew how to have a good time. However, he could see where these lessons could take the sparkle out of a person. 

The boys were constantly screaming and jumping around, hurting each other, insulting each other, and doing all they could to harass one another. It took far too much energy to make sure that Albert didn’t insult anyone to the point where they had to beat him up. It took far too much energy to keep Race from spending any money he had on silly bets. It just took so much time.

At the same time, Jack had really enjoyed working with the kids, teaching them all there was to know in order to live happily with dragons. He also fancied himself to be a rebel with a cause, and the fact that he was defying that wretched King Joseph gave him enough adrenaline to get through every day. Breaking rules was something that came naturally to him. He thrived off of it.

Race, of course, was the first to come out, riding his slender Greentail with a defiant look on his freckled face. He had declared recently, that riding a dragon was no different from riding a horse, and he was sure that he could groom it and take care of it by himself. Greentails were large creatures, and they had fierce personalities. Jack was sure that Race’s only put up with him, and was not actually being trained by him. He was probably just as charmed by Race as the rest of them. Race was a charming kid--even past his vivacious gambling and sour mood swings, he had a twinkle in his eye that you simply couldn’t underestimate.

“Check Perdita out, yeah? She’s a real beauty,” He bragged, as the Greentail huffed out of her delicate nostrils and retreated her enormous wings to fit the forest setting.

“Yeah, real graceful,” Jack laughed, shaking his head. Race’s pride was going to be the death of him someday. The freckled boy hopped off of his dragon to “groom” her a little bit, something she clearly was only putting up with. Meanwhile, Les had come out with a smaller dragon (a baby Ringcoat) and Davey had busied himself by helping his brother to calm it down. That was Davey’s talent. He had an immense patience with baby dragons that Jack could never quite understand.

The next quickest was a boy named Jojo, who had a Purpletail, with a more fiery nature than Perdita. Jojo, however, was a boy with a similarly fiery personality, and although it seemed like him and his dragon rarely got along, they found some sort of inner peace that worked for them. Usually it was competing with the other dragons in strength, size and agility. The Purpletail seemed to be relatively tired today, though and was blowing a little bit of smoke out of her nostrils.

Soon, the other boys were appearing out of the brush, trying to keep their various dragons from causing too much of a hassle. The older boys rode on theirs, and the younger ones dragged them by the harness. Every boy had an individual dragon--excluding Henry who still hadn’t found one to match his enthusiastic personality--but even he was sitting next to Buttons on his  [ Yellow Serpent ](http://i.imgur.com/7KXNVEo.png) , clinging close to the older boy.

Jack smiled as he looked at his students, all bright-eyed and ready to learn. If you would’ve told him even two years ago that he would be lucky enough to be doing what he loved with these people who he’d come to care about so much, he never would’ve believed you. He never could’ve believed that he deserved to be this lucky. And he still probably didn’t. But being a smart guy, Jack was ready to take it all in stride.

“So, Jack,” Romeo, the handsomest of the group (and well aware of this fact), piped up, patting his baby Snoozer, “What’s the plan, huh?”

“Think Davey’s in charge of the lesson today.” Jack shrugged, taking a seat on a rock beside Romeo, and stretched out his legs. “Tonight’s a night off for me.”

“Seems kinda busy with his brat,” Albert noted, thumbing over to where Davey was trying to calm both Les and the Ringcoat down in vain. “Can’t you at least give us some sort of  _ hint _ ?” 

“Calm down, Albert, this isn’t some dumb game,” Romeo rolled his green eyes dramatically before pulling the Snoozer onto his lap and stroking it’s scales protectively.

“Clearly you’re not trying hard enough.” Albert purred, offering a few seeds to Romeo’s dragon. The Snoozer quickly awoke from the smell, and was hopping off of Romeo’s lap to scuttle over to the blue-eyed boy. Albert glanced up from his hand, where the Snoozer was lapping up the seeds, just to give Romeo a smug grin.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Romeo frowned, his perfect eyebrows creasing. 

“I love it when you point out the obvious to me,” Albert chuckled, shoving the Snoozer back at Romeo. Luckily, Snoozers (as their title would address) were mostly peaceful creatures, and usually went along with the flow. The dragon cooed happily, regaining his position in Romeo’s arms. Romeo stroked him protectively.

“Draco isn’t going to play your dumb games either,” His voice was threatening, but Albert only laughed wildly. Jack chuckled at the interaction, but was soon distracted by the sound of Davey clearing his throat. 

Thirteen pairs of eyes landed on the lanky boy, standing at attention as if he were some sort of general ready to lecture his troops. He cleared his throat again, before addressing the boys, who had gone silent while watching him. “Alright you guys,” He began, the fire illuminating him to seem more intimidating than he ever could possibly be, “We’ve got a lot of work to do today. And since we only have around an hour left, we need to be as diligent as possible.” As Davey continued, droning on like he normally did, Jack could hear Specs whispering the definition of “diligent” to Mush, who thanked him in return. Jack simpered--Specs really was too bright to be dealing with the likes of them. His eyes landed on Snipeshooter, who was (surprisingly) raising his hand. Davey sighed and pointed at him, “Yes, Snipeshooter?” 

“What’s our lesson for the day?” He asked, moving to sit criss-cross applesauce. 

Davey sighed, and his fingers found the bridge of his nose again, “I was getting to that, now if you’ll just-” Another hand raised. “What is it, Race?” 

“Can you get to it faster?” Race smirked, leaning back on his Greentail. Silent chuckles filled the area.

“...Patience is a virtue, but. Sure, okay, I can get to it faster-” Another sigh, “ _ What. Albert.”  _

“What’s patience?” Albert grinned, causing all of the other boys to laugh. 

“Will you guys just shut up and let him talk?” Buttons snapped, and turned his exasperated attention to Davey. “Go on, Dave. Tell us what we’re doing.” 

“Yeah, c’mon Dave!” Henry agreed wholeheartedly, bouncing in his spot next to Buttons.

“I’m  _ trying,”  _ Davey groaned, throwing his arms to his sides.

Jack sighed from his nose, realizing that he was going to have to step in. He stood up from where he was sitting, wincing a little about the pain in his back, and moved up to stand by Davey, “Hey, guys. Listen to Davey, okay? If you don’t, nothing’s going to get done tonight. And we don’t want that. Right?” He lifted an eyebrow ever so threateningly, and all of the boys immediately silenced themselves. Davey offered Jack a withered smile, before turning his attention back to the boys.  

“So, Jack and I decided that after last week’s...uh,  _ incident _ ,” He exaggerated the word, his eyes landing on Henry, who immediately looked down at his feet. “We decided that it might be smart to start working on fire safety and control.” Buttons winced, and all of the other boys laughed and whispered, remembering the “tragedy” of the last week. Henry had burnt his pants to a crisp, rendering him practically nude, and completely embarrassed. It was funny as hell, and certainly wouldn’t be something anyone would let go of anytime soon. Buttons had been kind enough (as the Tailor’s apprentice) to make him a new pair of trousers, but the image of the boy trying desperately to get out of the forest and cover himself up was just too good to forget.  

“Yeah, hotpants, how’re you feeling, huh?” Race chimed in, eliciting giggles from all of the other boys.

“Cooler than you!” Henry responded, folding his arms and sulking a little bit.

“You’re too dumb to be cool,” Finch hopped up from his Feathered Redwing just to give the smaller boy a punch on the shoulder. “And too young.”

“You’re only a year older than me!!” Henry protested, slamming his fist back into Finch’s bicep, “And ‘sides, I ain’t stupid. I just.”

Buttons sighed, ruffling Henry’s curls, “Guys, lay off, okay? Henry’s dumb, but that isn’t news. Let’s pay attention and keep our britches on today, yeah?”

“What?! I’m not du-” Henry began, before immediately getting interrupted.

“Pretty hard for Romeo to keep his pants on. You oughta let him off the hook,” Albert teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“What in the hell is wrong with you-” Romeo began, immediately getting riled up.

“Uggggghhhh,” Jojo groaned, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand.

And then a much more quiet, bashful voice, rose above the rest. Crutchy was standing up, leaning against his cane, his Brown Schnitza curled up at his feet, “You guys, come on, we’re wasting time. Please?”

And since no one could possibly ignore the wishes of Crutchy, with his golden blond hair and pleading eyes, they immediately settled down. Specs and Mush quickly made silly faces at each other. Snipeshooter smiled, Les propped up on his lap, their eyes fixed on Davey. Romeo had scooted closer to Elmer, and away from Albert. Race was busy musing over his Greentail, and Jojo looked like he might combust at any moment. It almost angered him, how precious they all were to him. Giving Buttons (who was busy prying Finch and Henry away from each other) a knowing grin, Jack decided to speak up, his voice soaring above all of their heads. “So yeah. Fire control. You guys ready?” 

And from the nods, cheers, and hollers, he was sure they were. From the corner of his eye, he could see Davey smiling at him, and knew the two of them were ready too. 


	2. Behind the Castle Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain POVs from Katherine, Racetrack and Morris. There are light descriptions of violence. You have been warned. ENJOY!!

Chapter 2:

 

_Katherine:_

 

Snarls had to be the devil’s work--that was the only plausible explanation. They were incredibly painful, and they only ever appeared after an attempt have a bit of fun or sleep in. Their only purpose was to serve as a painful reminder of fact that princesses should not partake in improper activities, such as archery or horseback riding. Katherine groaned as she raked her comb through her thick, ivory locks, wincing as it refused make its way through. She supposed she could call her Chambermaid in, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d preferred the easy way out. Instead, she glared at herself in her mirror, and tried to force the comb through. With a cry of frustration, it finally made its way, taking a few strands with it. “Ugh, darn it…” She mumbled, slamming the comb down on her vanity and put her head in her hands.

Why was it that her entire life revolved around whether her hair had snarls in it or not? Why was she forced to look in the mirror so many times a day, just to make sure that her lashes were curled upwards, and her smile had the perfect appeal? Why did she have to spend her days trying on gowns, and meeting new people, and only being able to just smile and nod her head while important conversations were happening around her? There had to be more to life than that. Right? She removed her small hands to look at her face.

 _Beautiful._ There wasn’t a doubt about it. She was beautiful. A slender figure, plump lips, shiny hair. But couldn’t there be more than that? Couldn’t there be more to life than simply being beautiful? She furrowed her perfectly trimmed brow as she stared at herself. There had to be more to life than this. There were supposedly so many people outside of the castle walls--those walls she had never strayed from. Citizens, people, _her_ people. Who had feelings, and stories, and probably went on adventures all the time. Adventures she could never even dare to dream of. Adventures she would never go on.

Well--not _never_. At least if she had something to do with it. Katherine had always found herself to be mightily persistent, and she had been practicing this particular argument for quite a while. She had her logos, ethos and pathos all organized, and considered herself to be a rhetorical genius. The next time her father went out, she was going out with him--and that happened to be tomorrow for the bi-annual patrol of all the villages in Fuhl. He was bound to bring it up at supper that evening, and if she played her cards just right, she was fully convinced that he would allow her to go with him.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by a startling knock on the door. She jolted a little, scrambling to her feet, before breathing out a little. “Who is it?” She called.

“It’s me, your highness.” A familiar voice responded, bringing a genuine smile to her lips. She raced to the door and opened it.

“Morris! Come in, darling,” She beamed up at her large friend. Morris had been appointed as her personal guard, and had been a childhood friend of hers. He was extremely tall and muscular, and without a doubt one of the most feared men in the kingdom. He and his brother, Oscar had always been her father’s most trusted guards, even if Morris was a year younger than Katherine, herself. She was, naturally, very happy to see him.

Morris nodded his head, and the corners of his mouth turned up a little, “Good evening, Princess.” He responded, “Dinner has been served.” Morris was a man of few words, and found social situations to be a little uncomfortable if he wasn’t given direct orders. He was this way even with Katherine, who had been a dear friend of his from their childhood.

“Has it? Great!” She enthused, bouncing a little as she ran to get her tiara, “You know what I’ve decided Morris?” He raised an eyebrow, something she had known to take as a response, “I’ve decided that I’m going to ask him to go on the patrol!!” She grinned.

“The...Whisperer patrol?” He asked dumbly, folding his arms. He still looked uncomfortable in her room, edging ever so carefully towards the door frame. “Your highness, are you sure-”

Being used to the sound of her own high-pitched voice, Katherine continued effortlessly, sweeping through the room in her lovely green gown, “Of course I’m sure! Morris, dear, you know that I’ve been wanting to do this my whole life.” She spun around and giggled, “Plus, it’s not like a dragon is going to pop out of nowhere and attack us. And even if it were to, I have you to protect me, right?”

He nodded curtly, “...Of course.” He stood stagnant as she practically leapt past him, twirling into the hallway.

“Can you imagine it? ME! Being able to see the countrysides! The forests!” She pressed her hands to her heart, “ _My_ people. That I will be in charge of one day!” She sighed dreamily, “Oh, Morris, I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.” She couldn’t help but ramble on as she danced down the large halls of the castle, skip in her step, “And maybe! When I see it, I can figure out ways that we can help them! Because it must be terrible to be so impoverished, don’t you think?” She whipped around to see Morris’ response, which happened to be a small nod as he trotted down the hall after her. “And we can see the MOUNTAINS and the SEA! How lovely is that? I want to meet the other rulers too-” She laughed breathlessly, “Morris, we might actually be able to make the Kingdom a better place to live.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the corner of his mouth twitch into something resembling a smile. He nodded his head curtly once more, and began to match her pace, “Of course, your highness.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Her voice sounded mischievous, even to her own ears, “My rhetorical skills, that is. I have all of my arguments ready to go. He’s going to say yes! There’s no other possible outcome, right?”

Morris remained silent--an action that was both comforting and a little nerve wracking as he opened the door to the dining hall. He cleared his throat, “May I present, Her Majesty, Princess Katherine of Fuhl, daughter of His Royal Highness, our Beloved King Joseph.”

Katherine couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the formality, but still offered Morris a small smile before entering the dining hall in an incredibly grandiose manner. It was (thankfully) mostly empty, excluding a few other guards (including Morris’ brother, Oscar--a man much taller than Morris, but equally intimidating), and her father who was sitting at the other end of a long dining table. The dining hall was dimly lit by a few torches on the wall, accentuating the dark greens and purples that adorned the castle. She crossed the length of the table to give her father a particularly loving curtsy, and charming smile. “Good evening, father,” She said sweetly, before standing up.

“Hello, Katherine, you look lovely tonight,” Her father seemed to be a little more softened up today. Katherine couldn’t help but offer Morris a slight “thumbs up” as she strode back to her chair at the other end of the table. He quickly winked one of his eyes, and went back to staring forward. They both were well aware that her father was a stubborn man, from all the scrapes they had gotten into as they grew up. But even though he could be cold and calculating, it was a rare for Joseph not to bend to his daughter’s will--and Katherine was happily aware of this. She sat down in the large chair daintily, and reached forward to sip wine from the goblet that was offered to her.

“How has your day been?” She offered, setting the glass down, careful not to spill any of it on her gown. It was imperative that she act like a proper Princess to show both maturity and responsibility. It was imperative that she prove to him that she was ready to go past the castle walls.

“Fine,” He took a swig from his own goblet, his gulp so loud it echoed through the room. “I suppose things have been rather busy in preparation for the Bi-Annual patrol. Chef is taking far too long on preparing the salted meats for the journeying, and I believe that Wiesel has not spoken to either the stable boys or half of the courtsmen on their ability to attend.” He set the glass down with a small _clink_ , and frowned, finally making eye contact with her. “And you, darling? What have you accomplished today?”

She rested her hands in her lap, toying with a loose end in her gown, “Oh, I’ve been quite busy. I did my history lesson, and my dancing lesson, and then I practiced archery in the courtyard.”

An enormous, well-practiced, crease lined his brow, “Not for the whole afternoon this time, I hope.”

“No, father, not for the whole afternoon,” Her tone began to dip dangerously towards annoyance. Archery was her second favorite activity--but history was by far her lesson of choice. She loved to hear the stories of the kings and queens who came before her, and she loved to compare them to the problems that occurred in modern times. Wars, marriages, murders, scandals, executions; they all interested her to no end. Honestly, she almost envied the historians and scribes that were able to write the ancient scrolls, reliving every exciting moment. They got endless adventure through writing their words. Most of all, she loved to read the speeches that Noblemen and women would give. Their use of rhetoric was practically seamless, and it drove her to study it. However, she did also love archery; and it did bother her that her father would look down upon her participating in it. She remembered to smile brightly once more. “Of course not for the whole afternoon, when I finally got to King Richard’s speech on the War in Bluerock. Far too fascinating for me to spend my entire afternoon hitting silly targets.”

A small grin from her father had her practically soaring across the table. She was starting off well, and needed to keep his graces well before she even tried to convince him of anything. This was big. She had to be on her game in order to convince him to let her go with him. Her smile stayed in place as she avoided reaching for her wine once more--she had to keep her wits about her. “Good. Interesting manipulation of the public, wouldn’t you say?” He folded his arms, resting back in his chair.

Okay, so this was a test. He wanted to know exactly how much she was reading, and if she were to let him know that YES, in fact, she had been paying attention to her studies, meaning that she certainly cares about the past (and therefore future) of the Kingdom, and is willing to take on more responsibility as the future queen. She took a deep breath, sorting out what she could remember from the speech, “Quite. Of course, I do personally find that he could’ve been more convincing in his threats to begin tariffs on the crops near the Northern Sea. I personally am in favor of being more assertive when it comes to the taxation policies, and less passive-aggressive.”

A small grin appeared under her father’s large white mustache, “As am I. I’m glad that my economic policies are not falling upon deaf ears.” She grinned in response.

“Of course not, dear Father.” YES! She worded that right for sure! _Ten points to Katherine._ The smile was now becoming genuine, and although it was tempting, she resisted from turning over her shoulder to shoot another “thumbs up” at Morris. They would certainly be having a conversation after dinner to celebrate her triumph. But, for the time being, she could no longer ignore the elephant in the room. She ran through the endless conversations she’d had with herself in the mirror (some of which took on embarrassingly musical results--why did she feel the need to sing to her father so much?) and tried to recollect the points she had made. She kept her eyes serious, but her smile also did not waver, “So, Father,” She began, keeping her hands in her lap to ensure them from shaking, “I have a proposal for you.”

Intrigued, her father looked up from his goblet of wine, “And that proposal would be…?”

“Well,” The conversations she had practiced in the mirror had suddenly escaped her mind. Every fact for her logos, every opinion for her ethos had drained from her memory--and all she was left with was the perplexing emotions of her lagging pathos. Of course, she could at least remember to maintain eye contact. That was an important part of deal-making, if she could remember correctly. Suddenly it seemed as if everything she had ever remembered correctly was incorrect, and she couldn’t remember how to manipulate her father in a similar way that Richard had manipulated the peasants for the Tariffs of the Northern Sea, and everything was upside down. But, even though Joseph was stubborn, Katherine was his daughter. And she was determined to get out of the castle this time.

She took another deep breath. Just like she had practiced.

“Well, I was thinking about the Bi-Annual patrol,” She began, her hands impulsively shaky and sweaty, but her voice remaining more calm than it had before, “And since you seemingly have quite a lot resting on your shoulders, I was thinking that maybe I could lighten the load for you.” She paused, waiting for him to speak. Allowing the other party to speak his or her mind was vital to this type of conversation.

He leaned forward, propping his hands up on the wooden table, the fire from the torches reflecting in his crown. “And how do you propose you do that?” He asked. He was certainly interested in hearing her argument, which wasn’t a bad sign. She could keep going.

She had to keep going. She couldn’t stay cooped up in the castle forever, only speaking to her chambermaid, her father and Morris. She couldn’t spend her hours gazing out of her bedroom window, wondering what her kingdom looked like. She clenched her gown tightly, worrying that her eyes were beginning to give her away. “I would like to journey with you.” She stated, maintaining eye contact with fierce green eyes, trying to remember that they were the same color as her own. “I am eighteen years old now, and as far as I understand, I will one day take the throne. I believe that I am old enough to see my future Kingdom and the faces of the citizens-”

But she was soon cut off, by the impotent chuckles of her father. It was a terrible sound--a mocking, _flat_ gesture, and immediately, she tightened her fists around her balled up gown. He spoke, his tone disturbingly jolly, “You couldn’t be serious, Katherine. You know it’s far too dangerous,” She wanted to _interrupt him so badly_ , “for you to accompany me on such a quest. The outside world is nothing fit for a princess.” He grabbed his goblet again, a little more forcefully than before. He dumped the rest into his mouth, and a waiter quickly poured more into his from a pitcher.

Katherine tried her best to remain calm. She knew this would happen, she had planned on it. This is why she had rehearsed this conversation a hundred times, “Dear father, I certainly mean no disrespect,” Her voice was sounding less and less confident as she went, and she eventually found herself rambling, “But since I am almost to the age of twenty, I feel that I am ready to move past the walls of the castle. I would like to see my citizens, to see if I can bring new viewpoints to your reign. I may be a princess now, but eventually if I am to be queen-”

“But that is not for many years.” Her father snapped, his tone going darker. Katherine didn’t like to bring up the fact that she was taking the throne on a regular basis. Her father could be kind, but he was an old fashioned man. She knew that he would’ve prefered to have a son take the thrown. But Katherine was very young when her mother passed away, and her father had never remarried. This act was something very uncommon for widowed Kings, but Katherine liked to think that he had been in love with her mother, and could never imagine it. Secretly, she wanted a love like that of her very own. But that was besides the point. She stared at Oscar, who stood still against the wall. He offered no smile. Her father continued, “And until then, the castle is the safest place for you, Katherine. The world outside these walls is not fit for someone like you. Not yet, anyway.”

“But I should know what it is, to see if I could help-” She protested, her voice finally betraying her.

“You could not possibly help, Katherine, it’s beyond your control at the moment.” He stated, voice low and stern. “When you are ready, I will take you with me, but we are not at that point ye-”

“How is it beyond my control?” She snapped, slamming her hands on the table, “Father, I’m going to be the Queen! And soon! I should _know_ my Kingdo-”

“ _Do not interrupt me_ ,” The words carried through the hall, stinging every nerve in her body in their ferocity. Her mouth clamped shut, and she recoiled her arms, wishing desperately to turn back time. Of course she had stopped being convincing. Of course, she had let her pathos take control of her. How fucking _typical_. “Katherine, you may not go and that is final. And if you interrupt me again-”

But it was too late. Her body felt as if it were moving on its own, and soon she had risen from her chair, and was sweeping to the door, opening it wildly. She flung herself past Morris, trying desperately not to let the tears fall from her face. She was being incredibly unreasonable, but she had become so angry that she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t in control, and she’d made a fool of herself. In front of her _father_ . In front of _everyone_. And it was disturbingly humiliating. She couldn’t get to her room fast enough, wiping tears away from her eyes.

She had been _so close_. If only she hadn’t given up so quickly.

  


_Racetrack:_

  


“You fuckin’ serious?” He practically kicked the gate shut, lightly startling the dark brown stallion that huffed inside.

Elmer slumped against the wall of the shed, toying with the long braid that normally hung down his back, “Of course I’m serious, dumbass. Why would I joke about something like that?”

“Of couuuurse,” Race dragged the word out, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Because you never joke. About anything. Ever.” He leaned over the gate to offer some oats to the stallion, in hopes of making some form of peace offering. The horse snorted haughtily again, before eyeing the oats, and eventually giving in, his large tongue glossing over Race’s comparatively small fingertips. He couldn’t help but snicker, even in his current state of annoyance. Horses tended to have that effect on him. Grooming horses (and his beloved dragon, Perdita) was the only thing that made him soft, as far as he was concerned.

Well, that and-

“I wouldn’t kid about Bluerock. King Joe said it was urgent.” Elmer grimaced, leaning forward and throwing his dark brown braid back over his shoulder unceremoniously, “They’re heading there after the Capital on the patrol. Which is scary because-”

Race sighed, the name “Bluerock” immediately making him tense, “Yeah, yeah. I know. We’re all tense with them and whatnot. I _get it_.” He turned around to look Elmer in the eye, “Wars, scandals, purges, yadda, yadda, yadda.” A flick of his wrist insinuated that he didn’t really care about the tense situation with Bluerock, and he knew it bothered Elmer. Elmer liked to pretend that just because they worked at the castle, he was in with all the technical know-how of politics. He obviously didn’t. But Race wouldn’t go into that now. There wasn’t any point. “What I don’t seem to get is why we have to go.”

“We have to go,” Elmer reached up to hang the rope they’d been using, “Because-” It slung over, “They need someone to look after the horses.”

“Why the hell can’t they just look after them themselves? Ain’t like we’re gonna ride them.” Race glowered, reaching up to sling his own rope over the hook. It was a stretch for him, especially in comparison to his lanky coworker, who was currently closing the barrels of oats for the day.

He shoved the lid on top of one of them gruffly, before stepping back and wiping his hands off on his dirt-caked pants, “But that’s our _job_ , Race. Incase you forgot. We’re stable boys?”

“Doesn’t that mean we _stay_ in the stables?” He glanced back at Elmer, arching a practiced eyebrow.

Elmer opened up the door leading out of the stables, the sunset filling the sky with swirls of pinks and purples, “I don’t make the rules,” He stated plainly, shoving his hands into his pockets and stalking out. Race shivered a little and jogged to catch up with him. Elmer was a ridiculously tall guy, and he did not waste time in between places. When he finally caught up, Race slowed down to a trot, shoving his hands into his own pockets and looking up at the sky.

“Crazy they make us get out so late. And now we have to go on some perilous journey with them? Faaaantastic,” Sarcasm dripped out of his voice like honey, before he made a low whistle.

Elmer crossed his arms and chuckled, “That’s weird.”

Race shot his eyes up at Elmer, narrowing them slightly. The bastard had a smug look on his face, “What.”

Elmer shrugged, “Ohhh, nothing. You just…”He pursed his lips together and sighed out of his nose loudly, “Nah, never mind.”

“No,” Race’s voice swung, “You can’t get away with something like that so quickly. What’re you being so cryptic about, huh?”

Elmer’s hazel eyes were full of mischief as he eyed Race from where he stood, “I’ve just never seen you so squeamish in the sight of adventure.”Race scoffed, “I am _not_ squeamish.”

Broad shoulders shrugged again, causing the long braid to sway a little more than it normally did. Race wanted to cut it off. “Suit yourself.” Elmer’s voice was passive and calm, and Race could feel his eyebrows knitting together as he swung a fist at Elmer’s arm.

“I _am not squeamish._ What’s there to be afraid of anyway, huh?” The taller boy was knocked to the side a little, but Race quickly felt the stinging pain of a fist on his own bicep. He rolled his eyes and decided to ignore it, stomping forward. Elmer laughed. “Stop laughing. I just.”

“You just what?” Elmer chuckled and looked at the sky, “It’s just a quick stop at the Capital, Bluerock, a few other villages and boom. We’re done. What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t know, maybe being uprooted for three weeks just to pamper some little Princess and her daddy?” Race reached up to scratch his head, undoubtedly messing up his hair, his orange locks already untamed. It was a good enough excuse, he supposed. The last thing he wanted to do was to travel around, and to not attend lessons for those weeks. He knew that Jack would take care of Perdita, but he ALSO knew that the only person that knew how to _really_ take care of Perdita was him. She was a queen among other dragons--with her smooth scales and glamorous disposition--and she deserved to be treated as such. He didn’t want any of the younger kids to treat her the way they did their dragons. And God so help him, if Albert got his nasty ass anywhere near her, he’d kill him himself. His thoughts were interrupted by a sly remark from his cohort.

“We already uprooted to take care of them now. We make this six mile trek every day. What’s different about attending the patrol?” Race really hated how smug Elmer sounded all the time. He really liked to pretend that he knew everything, and that he got to know everything. And honestly, Race was in no mood to deal with some know-it-all prick like Elmer. The little lilt in his voice always sounded so patronizing, especially when the two of them were the same age. Race clenched his fists. Everything was different about the patrol. But he couldn’t say that.

“Definitely more than six miles.” He tried to keep his voice from sounding annoyed with Elmer, because he was not in the mood for some ‘friendship lecture’ or whatever the lanky kid had in store for him.

“It’s probably for the better that we go.” The patronizing lilt remained.

“Sure, yeah. Because we obviously need a work out.” Race wrinkled his freckled nose, glancing back to the dirt road they tread upon. “Besides, it’ll be nice to spend the night with the horses. Make sure they sleep okay in unfamiliar places.”

“Of course,” Race waited for the “but”. “However…” There it was! An even more _patronizing_ “but”. Even better. “More importantly,” Of course it was _more important_ than any point Race could possibly make. Honestly, he had half a mind to sock Elmer in the nose, but he kept his fists balled in his pockets. It was safer that way. But the goon was still talking, probably luxuriating in the sound of his own dumb voice, “Now that we actually know when the patrol is happening, we can let Jack and Davey know about it.”

Race rubbed his eyes wearily. At some level, he knew that Elmer had made a good point, but after a long day of work, something about his dumb voice and stupid face made it conceivable impossible to agree with him. Elmer wouldn’t know “smart” if it kicked him in his nose. If he would even pause to have a conversation with someone somewhat intelligent, he might actually find out that he wasn’t as smart as he claimed to be. He could talk to Specs, for example, or Jack, or Davey or RACE, EVEN. But he was just such an _idiot_ that he couldn’t see that he was being one. And in that case, Race couldn’t agree with him outright. It was simply against everything he stood for. And so, instead of agreeing, he said, “It’s kind of a bi-annual thing, right? I’d be willing to bet they were ready for it. They’ve always been ready before.”

“Because Davey’s father announced it.” Elmer trailed off, “Now that I’m thinking about it, it certainly does seem a lot earlier this time, wouldn’t you think? To have it in spring?”

“To be really honest with you, Elmer, I don’t think I’ve ever cared before,” He kicked a rock away from his foot, watching as it rolled away.

The little glare that was so pompously shot at him made Race smirk a little, glad to get even just the slightest rise out of his coworker. The taller boy raked his fingers through the shorter strands of hair that cupped his bronze face. “All I’m saying is that maybe we should be caring, huh? It’s weird that they even added Bluerock to the schedule in the first place. It isn’t even technically a part of Fuhl, considering it’s a part of the mainland-”

“What does it matter if we go to Bluerock or not, huh?” Race spat, rage filling his eyes. “Okay, so our relationship is a little rocky. So what? It’s always been rocky. What’s supposed to change now?”

Elmer shrugged and looked back towards the skyline, “To be honest with you, Race, I’m not entirely sure myself.”

At any other time, those words would’ve been music to Racetrack’s ears. The goon essentially handed him acknowledgement that he wasn’t always right all the time on a silver platter. But his mind wandered to different things, and suddenly he didn’t really feel like talking to Elmer anymore.

The relationship between Bluerock and the rest of Fuhl had always been negative. Bluerock had its own Monarchy, its own laws, but because of treaties signed hundreds of years before, it technically belonged to the island. It had always been that way. Bluerock was a desert--with little to no food to harvest. They survived on what they could trade with Fuhl alone, but it still didn’t seem like they were happy about it. Bluerock was sandy, hot, and terrifying. The people were horrible, the laws unjust, and the monarchy tyrannical. They executed people in the streets. People with stature. People with feelings and lives and families. They were the scum of the earth. But he guessed King Joe wasn’t any better.

Bluerock was despised among most of the people of Fuhl, barely counting it as anything more than a burden. Just more taxes for them to pay. Race would never let on that he was born there. He had a reputation to uphold after all. And Bluerock was a scheming shithole of a town. He couldn’t believe that he’d have to go back just to keep some crummy job grooming horses for the Princess and her douchebag father. He couldn’t believe he’d have to stay near Bluerock’s castle. See the gates again, see the guards. To picture the blood, and the screaming and the pain--things he never wanted to think of again. The fears he had run away from so many years before. Painful, scorching memories, that could easily fade away with the horses or Perdita. Memories that could simply fall away when Jack was near him.

He never thought he’d have to be near it all again. He never thought he’d have the opportunity to be under the stare of two hazel eyes, their mischief both stunning and heart wrenching. He never thought he’d have to face his past again. So maybe it was time to quit his job at the castle. He could never go back.

But he knew that something wasn’t right in Bluerock, even outside the scandals of his own past.

Of course, something had changed. Even as a stableboy, Race had begun to hear whispers throughout the castle. Whispers of the death of the king, a rise of a new heir. An heir with sandy blonde hair, large malignant eyes, and continuously smirking lips. A smartass, know-it-all heir who spent too much time ordering people around and shooting arrows from his pretentious bow to actually know how to run a country. An heir that he hadn’t seen for two entire years.

That stupid, pompous asshole, who knew exactly how to push every one of Race’s buttons.

Who knew exactly what to say to make him cave to any desire he might have.

That stupid, pompous asshole who had said he loved him.

Who betrayed him.

Who ruined his life.

The thought made tears sting at his eyes, as he refused to let them fall. The rest of the walk to their home was completely silent. He couldn’t go back. But he certainly couldn’t quit. He couldn’t do that to Elmer, or to himself. He needed the income. He needed to eat.

_He hated Bluerock. He hated Spot fuckin’ Conlon._

He felt like he was going to vomit.

_But he didn’t have another choice._

But there had to be another option. He couldn’t face his past like that. He couldn’t see the people who did that to him. Who did that to his _family._

_And they would leave in the morning._

He would leave with them in the morning. There was no other choice.

  


_Morris:_

 

There was a time when Morris and Katherine were children, around the ages of seven or eight years old, when they had been playing a game around the castle. It was a simple game, really. Katherine would pretend that she was running from a wolf, and Morris would be the wolf. If he caught up to her, he would tickle her, and she would laugh until tears sprung from her curious eyes. This was a game they played almost every day for a few weeks, sliding their feet through the castle halls, laughing as they went. Morris couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed that hard. They were naive and silly and free, and the world was their plaything. Until one day, when Katherine had turned a particularly sharp edge, and Morris’ foot hit a rock. He had stumbled forward, onto his hands and knees and let out a little yelp of pain. Katherine had immediately turned around to scamper to his side, trembling with worry. Her small, tan hands pressed against his arm and lifted him up. Two sets of eyes widened at the blood pouring from his knee, and Morris knew that the fun had ended, at least for a little while. He didn’t cry. Morris had never been one to cry. Katherine, on the other hand, was sobbing. She said she couldn’t stand to see anyone in pain, let alone her best friend. Her future protector. Even back then, she had been so incredibly kind hearted. And Morris would never understand how she could ever love someone like him.

Morris understood that he wasn’t the brightest star in the sky. He knew that he was simply an uneducated brute, whose only real purpose was to use his natural strength and height to protect the princess and the king. He was useful in battle and in a torture chamber, but when it came to actual schematics and intellect, he was completely worthless. That’s why he had Oscar. Oscar could come up with the tactics and the plans, and all Morris would have to do was go along with them. Oscar could speak to the King about problems within the Kingdom and come to conclusions about the violence that would have to be done. Morris would follow orders.

He had always been diligent about following orders. Because that’s what servants were supposed to do. They listened and performed adequately. And if Oscar told Morris that the King needed him to do something, he would do it. He would do it because he trusted Oscar. He was a great older brother, after all. Oscar, along with Katherine, were the center of Morris’ world. Oscar had shocking red hair and frightening blue eyes to match Morris’ own, and the same large stature. He had played both father and mother, even though he was merely four years older than Morris, himself. He was the superior of the two of them, and Morris found himself feeling incredibly lucky that Oscar would spend any time with him at all. He loved that he kept him around to help the King when they needed to.

And so if Oscar asked Morris to keep his mouth shut, he would just have to do it.

Morris understood that he was brainless. He didn’t need Oscar to remind him of that every day. He didn’t need Wiesel to tell him either. He understood what he was good for. He understood the rule of secrets. But at some level he knew that some of the missions he and his brother were sent on were wrong.

It, at some level, was not right to kill a person. It wasn’t right to press scorching pieces of iron into their skin, or beat them half to death. People didn’t truly deserve that. But who was he to decide who deserves it or not? That wasn’t his job. His job was to carry out orders.

But even though Morris was brainless, he knew that Katherine could never find out the reality of his work. It would kill her, destroy her entire being.

He still hated lying to her. He hated that he knew more about her Kingdom than she did. He hated that the inevitability of her finding out would happen soon. They were both getting older, and although the King was putting it off as long as possible, she would eventually have to be coronated.

Unless, of course, she was sent to Bluerock. He grimaced at the thought. Someone like Katherine did not belong in a place like that. She belonged in the castle, ruling over Fuhl with her pure heart. It’s what Fuhl deserved. She was brilliant, beautiful and selfless. She was exactly what they needed. Morris didn’t know many things, but he knew where Katherine belonged. He knew that she had been born a Queen. It was her destiny.

Morris stood at the end of the hallway, staring past the cold grey stone. It was dark, the sun having set long ago. He had washed the blood of a prisoner left in the dungeon of the castle off of his pasty hands, and vomited, the screams still filling his ears. He was shaking. But his work wasn’t done for the day. His boots made little “clack” sounds as he begun to walk, his movements stiff and forced. His muscles were tight. His head hurt. But his hands were clean. And he still had more to do.

The hallways of the castle were long and intimidating. Even at his enormous height, the ceiling still hung high above his head. His mind was fuzzy, filled with only worry for his only friend. It was like he was moving in a haze, memories jumping between a scraped knee and the screams of a stranger he did not know. The screams of hundreds of strangers they did not know.

The man in the dungeon had been a tough one. Morris hated the ones who wouldn’t give up easily. They were always louder, and they always made Oscar angry. His face would turn as red as his hair, and his eyes would be wild. Morris, meanwhile, felt like he was in a trance. His hands moved on their own, practiced in their art. Scarring, scorching, numb to the pain they caused. Terrible, disgusting hands. Large and pale and stained with the blood of many men. But this man was particularly memorable to Morris.

_“And the Scriptures from Fire will never burn in Hell.”_

The man had said it. Not just those words, but the entire prophecy. Again and again. Morris felt his heart sink in his chest.

Only those with the plague could say the prophecy word for word. Only they could remember the entire thing. Everyone else could only remember what Morris could, “And the Scriptures from Fire will Never burn in hell”. Those with the plague bleed from their eyes and lost their minds. But the plague returning had been deemed impossible by the wise men of the castle. They had said that every Dragon-Whisperer had been exterminated. The only cause for the return of this prophecy would be if Dragon-Whisperers still roamed the Kingdom. Morris had truly believed that they were safe.

He was the third man to have recited the prophecy in the past month. They had no choice but to kill him. They had no choice but to put him out of his misery. That’s what you did to those with the plague, to stop them from spreading it to others. But they didn’t know how long he’d had it. Sometimes the plague didn’t show up for weeks, months even. There’s no telling how he could’ve spread it to others.

Morris rubbed his fingers together as he wondered how the man must’ve affected Oscar. Morris was still very young when their mother had gotten the plague, still very young when she had been taken to the castle prison. Oscar was old enough to understand exactly what was going on. He was old enough to find them a job, and King Joseph was kind enough to accept Oscar’s offer, even letting Morris play games with his beloved daughter.

Morris could only remember bits and pieces of his mother. He could only vaguely remember the stories she would tell him before he went to bed, cuddled up by his big brother’s side. She was comfort and warmth, while Oscar was force and power. But Oscar did anything he could to protect Morris, and Morris loved him. He would do anything for him.

He could remember his mother reciting the prophecy, her voice charred and harsh, an echo of a scream still ringing in his ears. That scream mixed in with all those who had perished because of the prophecy. Because of those _damned Dragon-Whisperers._ The only explanation is that there were still some who remained in Bluerock.

And so another treaty with Bluerock had to be signed, before any more citizens would have to suffer the effects of the plague. And if the treaty Bluerock wanted had to be signed, then Katherine had to go on the mission, even though it hurt her father. It was time that the two kingdoms came together once and for all, even if it meant that Katherine would have to marry the new King. Politics were brutal, but the plague was moreso. But it still pained Morris to think of Katherine being stuck in a marriage that she had no choice in. But so was the fate of many princesses. All Morris knew was that he would stand by her side through it all. Because she would need a friend. She would need a brother, even if he wasn’t biologically one.

His feet stopped moving as his eyes landed on the dark wood of her door. He raised a fist to knock upon it, but recoiled it quickly.

He knew why the King had asked him to tell her the news. He also knew why he told him to not tell her the entirety of it. Katherine was too fragile and naive to know about the plague quite yet. And Morris couldn’t legally tell her. It still hurt his heart. His eyes landed on his fist. It was so disgustingly clean.

The worst part about taking someone’s life is the silence that follows. A slight ringing in your ear, and the lifeless corpse of someone in front of you. Someone that had a family once. Who had thoughts and feelings, and a favorite food and a best friend. Morris could never cry after he saw someone die. The silence was enough for him, and he didn’t want to ruin it with his tears. It was as if for just one moment, the universe mourned its lost child. Time stopped with breath.

Morris was a monster. Trained to be one, murder ingrained into every vein in his body. But his fist was still clean, and the princess with dark hair and curious eyes, waiting behind that door in her lovely gown, had no idea of his monstrosity. But he still loved her, and it was his duty to comfort her. It was his duty to keep the plague, marriage and war hidden from her. It was his duty to not frighten her with the idea of Dragon-Whisperers still roaming the Kingdom. He just had to tell her that her dream had finally come true. That she would be able to leave the castle walls.

The knock on the door created a hollow sound, and almost mirrored the sound of a heartbeat. Morris felt like he might want to vomit again, but he kept his eyes forward.

“Come in,” A withered voice echoed through the hall, a little more raspy after its owner had been crying. Morris wrapped his fist around the handle, and pushed the door forward.

There was a heap of silk and wild dark hair curled up on her bed. Katherine peaked out from the mess, her face tearstained, the whites of her eyes noticeably reddened. She sniffled before acknowledging him, “Hello, Morris. What do you want?”

His brows knit together as he looked at her. He hated to see Katherine in any amount of pain. It made his blood begin to boil. It took intense control not to run to her, and tangle his fingers into her soft hair, holding her close as she wept. But his hands were not trained to comfort, they were worthless to soothe her. He couldn’t possibly take away her pain when the only thing he could do was cause it. So he closed the door and stood where he was. Eventually, he found his voice, “Your highness, your father asked me to come speak to you.”

She flopped over unceremoniously and released a dramatic groan, splaying her limbs on her bed, “Tell him to go and jump in a lake,” She pouted, “I’m so angry, Morris. I could _die_.”

The words cut him, even though he knew that she was only being dramatic. He swallowed before responding, his voice monotone and deep, “I am very sorry that your meeting did not work out as expected, Your Highness.” He paused, “Although, I do have some news that might possibly cheer you up.”

She turned over again, her mouth set in an impenetrable frown, “How could you possibly make this any better?” She sighed before sitting up, her hair in messy knots behind her head. “He just doesn’t understand _anything._ ” She choked back a sob, wiping some of the wetness off her face, “But he’s such an idiot!! Doesn’t he know how hard I’ve been trying? This is all I’ve wanted my _entire life_ , and he can’t even think for a second that I might be ready.” She sobbed again and put her face in her hands, “I’m n-not a little girl anymore.”

Morris’ feet begged him to step forward, and to go to her, but that was not his job as her guard. He put his hands behind his back, not wanting to look at them anymore. He coughed, “Actually,” He tried to remember what the King had told him to say, “You must’ve been very convincing.” Every word felt like a dagger slicing his tongue. He didn’t want to lie to Katherine. But the King was right. If she knew the real purpose, she would refuse to go. Morris’ job was to do as the King wished.

The princess moved her hands away from her face, her wide eyes filled with rage, “Convincing? Please, Morris, it was terrible.” She sighed and fell back onto the couch, “I suddenly failed to remember every way to make an even slightly decent argument,” She continued. Katherine had a tendency to ramble, but Morris enjoyed it, since he didn’t enjoy silence, and someone had to fill it. It usually wasn’t him, because he rarely had something to say. But it still hurt him to see her upset like this. Her arms moved rapidly as she spoke, expressing every word with tactical ferocity, “Which is horrible, because if I can’t even convince my father to let me go on some stupid patrol with him, how will I ever lead a Kingdom? I mean, I’m eighteen now! My coronation could happen soon. And I need to be able to deliver a simple speech adequately, let alone decide who to start war with or what the taxation policies should be.” She sniffed again, threading her fingers through her hair, “I’m a complete failure. And I’m never going to learn.”

When she had seemingly fallen silent, surrendering to her own tears, Morris cleared his throat. At least this lie would make her temporarily happy. And sometimes, that’s all he could do. But he’d never lied to Katherine straight out before. Of course, he lied to her by never telling her the truth about his employment, but she never asked either. But this was a  boldfaced lie, without even the slightest bit of truth in it. It was a decision made in a split second after Oscar had told the King about their latest prisoner. Morris would rather be beheaded then tell her the lie, but he couldn’t ever do something like that to Oscar. Oscar needed him, and so would Katherine. Telling her the truth would do neither of them any good, and would only get him killed. It wouldn’t change the fact that she would have to marry the tyrannical King of Bluerock. It wouldn’t change the fact that Dragon-Whisperers were beginning to kill more and more people. But if she could even be happy for just this simple moment, it would be worth it. “Your Father was actually thoroughly convinced by your argument,” He saw her head pop up, face full of wonder, “And after giving it some thought, believes that you should be able to go on this patrol.”

So that he can sell you to another part of the kingdom in order to keep the peace. Bluerock was known for its Dragon-Whisperings, and so giving their King more power would be a good tactic. It had to be done.

The smile on Katherine’s face broke Morris’ heart. Her eyes were overflowing with joy, and before he knew it, she was leaping off of her bed, bounding towards him, and before he could tell her to stop, her arms were thrown around him. He stood stiffly, but brought a hand around to pat her back. He felt like he was going to vomit again. The Princess bounced up and down, her dark curly hair splaying about her.

“I AM SO EXCITED!!!” She pulled back, daring to look him in the eye, her smile everpresent. “Can you believe it? MORRIS, I’M GOING TO GO OUTSIDE!!! And you’ll be there too!!!” She beamed and spun away from him, laughing in ecstasy, “Oh. My. God. We’re going outside! And we’ll see the world together, just like we always said we would.” She ran to her window, and gazed out of it, her brown eyes full of awe, “We’re going to get to see the mountains, and the birds and the people! We can read books and hear stories and learn about the land. Isn’t that wonderful?” She spun back around to look at him.

She was beautiful when she smiled, and he couldn’t help but grin back, even though he knew that he had wronged her. Katherine was like a ray of sunlight, sparkling through the room. She was his light at the end of a tunnel, but it was a tunnel he couldn’t possibly get out of. He just kept walking through, but the light never got any closer. It just stayed where it was.

He was going to break her heart. She was going to hate him.

All he could do was smile and say, “Yes, it’s very wonderful.”

He had to protect her.

********** 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Hope you liked the second chapter! :) Feel free to comment or DM me!!!


	3. Phantom Adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from the perspectives of Specs and Buttons! There is mild sexual innuendo in this chapter, and also relatively descriptive kissing. You have been warned!! :)

Chapter 3:

 

_ Specs:  _

 

The muscles in Specs’ hands were starting to cramp up, and the heat from the fire increased the perspiration on his forehead. He was almost done with this fork, but the heat and the pain were starting to cause him to lose focus. He knew that he’d owed at least some decent work ethic to Jack and Crutchy, after they’d made almost two hundred of the forks in the past couple weeks. They had always been understanding of his headaches, and allowed him to take the day off when they got specifically bad. And the six and a half hours he’d spent etching little designs onto the handle were nothing compared to the two full workdays Jack and Crutchy had spent making them. He pushed his round spectacles up his nose, eyes used to staring past the scratches and smudges that lined the glass, delicately tracing the petals of a flower. 

The heat from the fire was scorching, and his gloved hands were starting to feel less than numb to the sensation. His fingertips were burning and his eyes were starting to water. When he blinked, he could still see the imprint of the yellow fire on his lids. At some level, he’d loved the sight of fire. He loved the way that it danced, and the way that it created a golden glow around everything.

He loved the way that his dragon looked like fire. Kultainen was a magnificent dragon, with her shimmering golden wings and her deep red eyes. She was a fire dragon through and through, heat consistently radiating off of her large body. She moved like fire too--flickering and crackling, both dangerous and warm. He loved her more than he could ever truly say. And being able to see her (even for only three nights a week) was something that he’d do anything for. He sometimes wondered if Jack knew exactly how much he’d done for everyone in the village. He couldn’t even remember a time when he’d felt like a family member to anyone before Jack arrived. Of course, he’d loved Medda and everything she’d done for him...but with Kultainen and all of Jack and Davey’s other students, he really felt like he belonged to a family. 

The thought made him smile as he worked, but he was starting to feel a little bit drowsy. He was on fork #185, so he decided he could afford a break as soon as he was done. The last thing he needed was to fall ill or pass out or something. Then he’d be an even bigger burden than he was with all of his headaches. He finished the last petal on the handle, and smiled, dimples pressing into his cheeks. He stood up, hung it up on the rack to dry, and slipped his gloves off, careful not to burn the pale skin on his fingers. He blinked a few times, the image of the fire refusing to leave his vision, and stretched his arms up over his head. 

When he could finally see normally, he rushed to the door of the Metalshop and flung it wide open. The sight was so exciting it almost brought him to tears. A smile formed on his lips as he practically danced out into the open air, floating among the streets of crowded people. Specs loved everything about the capital. He loved the way the sun shined brightly, no matter the season, and he loved the blue sky. Spring was a good time too. Flower Sellers and farmers roamed the streets, calling out the prices of their produce. He waved to Romeo, who was walking back to his job with the Cooper, his dark arms wrapped around a barrel almost ¾ of his size. “‘Ey, Specs!!” He called out. 

“Hiya, Romeo!!” Specs beamed, luxuriating in the cool spring breeze that relieved his skin of its former torment, “That’s a big barrel ya got there! Need some help?”

Romeo almost looked like Specs had slapped him across the face instead of simply offering him some help, “You kidding? Nah, I got it.” Specs felt himself deflate, and it must’ve been noticeable enough that the dark haired boy quickly added, “But I could sure use some company.” 

His smile quickly returned as he hopped over to the other boy. “Great!! I needed to get my legs moving, you know?”

“You sure are a jumpy one, huh?” Romeo laughed a little. 

“I guess so. How’s your day been?” Specs asked, forever the soul of politeness.

“Same old, same old. Wrapping medal around sticks, calling it a barrel. Giving it to the Blacksmith for a decent amount.” Specs immediately perked up at the mention of the Blacksmith, his heart pounding a little. Romeo, of course, didn’t notice, “Hey, wait a minute. Crutch was telling me you guys have to make four hundred forks or something? What’re you doing taking a break, huh? I thought you were supposed to be a responsible one.” 

The blond boy laughed, shrugging his broad shoulders, “I’m almost done with the designs for all the forks Jack and Crutchy made. I thought I deserved some fresh air!” He laughed again, and Romeo joined in with him, shaking his head. 

“Alright, sounds good enough to me. I wish I didn’t have Old Man Potter up my ass all the time about these stupid barrels.” He glanced at Specs from the corner of his eye. 

Specs decided to be bold and take the opportunity that Romeo had unknowingly offered him. He tried to keep his voice as casual as possible when he asked, “So you said you’re headed over to the Blacksmith’s? Mush have work today?”

Romeo snorted, hoisting up the barrel to keep his grip, “You kidding? Mush has work everyday. He’s might be the only person who’s more diligent than you.” He looked as if he were considering the concept seriously, “I mean, aside from Davey, of course.”

“Yeah,” Specs laughed, “I’m not sure if that guy’s ever taken a break in his life.” The sun suddenly seemed to shine a little brighter, and the cool breeze lightened his feet as they practically pranced upon the road. “But I guess I’ll come with you. Say hi to the Blacksmith and Mush and all that.” 

“You two sure have gotten close recently, haven’t ya?” Romeo asked innocently, not recognizing the spark that coursed through Specs’ veins, or the bashful smile that appeared on his lips. 

Specs tried to find his voice, his hands getting a little clammy, “Yeah, we have. He’s a real good friend to me…” He trailed off, looking anywhere but Romeo’s eyes, in fear he might give himself away. He constantly lived in that fear. How could it not be obvious, after all? They had been trying to be discreet, but Specs couldn’t control the way he wanted to spend all of his time with Mush. He couldn’t stop himself from drowning in his gaze, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to make him smile every chance he got. He couldn’t help but see the world in more color every time the muscular boy entered a room. Mush sent sparkles all through Specs’ body, and made him feel like he was the luckiest guy in the world. It took an unimaginable strength to stand still instead of flying into his arms, to keep his hands in his lap instead of tangled in Mush’s long dark hair. Even the thought of him, his gentle smile, his sunny disposition, the way the sunlight reflected off his golden skin, made Specs want to jump for joy and shout how much he loved him to the world. But he kept his eyes to the ground, and his smile to himself. He was awoken from his thoughts when Romeo spoke again.

“Oh thank god, we’re almost there. Who’da thought a barrel would be so damn heavy, huh?” He laughed breathlessly, shifting the wooden object up again. 

“Well, I thought you might, considering you’re a Cooper’s apprentice?” A mocking tone sounded from behind them, laughing as it caught up, “Isn’t carrying barrels like, your only job?”

Specs turned around to watch Romeo actively deflate as a wiry pale arm was slung around his tan shoulders. Romeo shrugged it off violently and quickened his face, “Hey, fuck off, Albert, I’m not in the mood for your shit today, okay?” 

Albert gasped dramatically and slinked quickly to the other side of Specs, “Oh, Romeo, how you  _ wound  _ me,” He put a hand over his heart, “And right when I thought we was friends.” 

Romeo huffed, and kept his green eyes focused ahead of him, determined to get to the Blacksmith’s shop as quickly as possible. Disappointed that he wasn’t getting a response, Albert turned his attention to Specs, tugging on his earlobe obnoxiously, “Hey, Specs!!”

Specs turned his head, out of Albert’s grasp to give him a timid smile, “Hiya, Albert! What’re you doing out here, huh?” 

Albert shoved his hands into his pockets and gave a defiant shrug, “Got offa work early. I was looking for a bit of fun before we head out for the night.” 

“Well, why don’t you go bother Buttons or Jojo, huh? I ain’t in the mood for your shit today,” Romeo snapped, his pace quickening even more. For a guy on the shorter side, he was moving  _ damn fast  _ at this point, and Specs had to put an extra skip in his step in order to keep up. 

“Well, guess what, Ro?” Albert crooned, “I stopped talking to you a long time ago.” 

“Who’re you talkin’ to then, huh?” Romeo growled, still not looking Albert’s way. Specs wrinkled his nose. He hated it when the boys fought, and when Albert was around, a fight seemed to always be around the corner. Personally, Specs really liked Albert, but Specs pretty much liked everyone. 

He jumped a little as he felt a long arm draping his own shoulders, “Who says I didn’t come over here to talk to Specs, huh?” Specs wasn’t sure whether to move or not, so he kept walking, his blue eyes wide behind scratched up lenses. His hands were suddenly a lot sweatier--he hated that they did that. It was just so  _ gross _ . But he didn’t like the feel of Albert’s arm around him, even if it was friendly. “What, you jealous?”

Romeo glowered, “No, just grossed out by you in general, ya waste of oxygen.”

Specs shifted a little to relinquish the taller boy’s grasp, sliding closer to Romeo, but Albert only laughed and held him a little tighter, patting him on the shoulder, “Ya hear that? Romeo’s so mean to me. A real heartbreaker.” 

“Hey, why don’t ya leave him alone?” A deeper voice called out from the side. Spec’s heart immediately started to beat faster, his stomach doing cartwheels. Mush strutted towards them, giving Specs a tiny smile that made him feel like he might explode any second. 

Albert sighed and moved his arm, since even he knew better enough not to start anything with Mush. Not that Mush would ever start anything with anyone. He was a tough guy, not much taller than Specs, but well built. But he was a sweetheart; he was friends with everyone, but no one wanted to get on his bad side. “Buzzkill,” Albert quipped, folding his arms in a pout.

Mush laughed good naturedly, the kind of laugh that sounded like music, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” He took another step forward, and turned his charming smile toward their green eyed companion, “Here, Romeo, lemme get that from ya. I’m sure the Old Man’s gonna need it for his new batch o’ swords.” He wrapped his arms around the barrel and lifted it from Romeo’s grasp. The muscles in his arms tightened as he hoisted it up for balance, sending shivers down Specs’ spine. Mush was so  _ beautiful _ . Specs could just look at him for an entire day and not get bored. He couldn’t even utter a word, he just gawked at the god-like boy, and smiled helplessly as he walked forward to the Blacksmith’s shop, his black hair swinging in a braid behind him. 

“Alright, well. See ya, Mush, I gotta get back to work now!” Romeo smiled back, victim to Mush’s contagious sparkle. He waved, “You coming back with me, Specs?”   
Specs jolted, turning his attention back to Romeo. He felt his face heat up, embarrassed that he’d allowed himself to stare that long. He had wanted to stay and delight in Mush’s company for a little while longer, but he wasn’t sure if he should. He stumbled on a response, “Well, I uh, I mean, maybe I should go back-” He pushed his glasses up his nose, cursing the sweatiness of his fingertip as it slipped on the brim.

“Actually,” Mush’s soft baritone interrupted, “I might need some help getting all the armor organized. You busy right now, Specs?”

He relaxed immediately. Of course Mush knew exactly what to say. He always did. Specs beamed, but refrained from spinning into Mush’s arms, “Nope! I was just taking a break actually. I’d be happy to help!”

“Great!” Mush enthused, “Come on in. The Old Man left for a little while to gather supplies from up North.” Specs’ breath caught in his throat.  _ That meant the shop was empty _ . It meant that they would be alone. He shuddered out a breath, goosebumps of excitement crawling up his milk-white flesh. His face was starting to get red again.

He was going to get to be alone with Mush. They hadn’t been alone in two weeks. He’d been surviving on the accidental bumps between knees, and the casual friendly arm pat for almost fourteen days until this point. And now? He was going to  _ be alone with Mush.  _ Even if it was only for a little while, they would be alone together. Together. With no one else. He could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears. 

At some level, Specs could hear Romeo offering his goodbyes and turning on his heel to go. Albert saluted and headed off after him, and Specs could hear the sound of bickering, but it all felt far away from him. He could only offer a half-hearted wave, before turning around and heading into the shop, practically stepping on Mush’s heels.

They scurried in silently, and Specs thought he might actually die from anticipation. His heart was beating at a dangerous speed, and his palms were getting hotter every second that he waited. The Blacksmith’s shop was windowless, making the atmosphere dark and cool. It felt like the opposite of the Medda’s shop, and it took a minute for Specs’ eyes to get adjusted to the lighting. He blinked a few times as he heard the door shut behind him.

Before he knew it, two thick arms were curling around his waist, and a warm stomach was pressed into his back. He could feel Mush’s breath on the back of his neck, and he shuddered, trying desperately to catch his breath. “Hey,” The voice behind him murmured quietly.

Specs breathed out harshly, and awkwardly spun around to face the other boy. Through his lenses, he could see two dark eyes. He smiled again shyly, leaning forward so that their noses were touching, “Hi…”

Mush chuckled lowly, rubbing a little circle in the small of Specs’ back. The blonde shuddered, reaching his arms to hang loosely around Mush’s neck. Perfect lips grinned at him, full and sweet as he spoke, his voice a gentle rumble, “Long time no see, huh?”

“No kiddin’...” He laughed breathlessly in response. He felt shy, but unreasonably comfortable, pressing his chest against the other’s.

“Do you really have the time to do this? I don’t want you gettin’ in any trouble with Jack,” Mush cautioned, every word spoken so close to Specs’ mouth that he could practically taste them. He loved the sound of Mush’s whispered voice. It felt dangerous and hungry, and it took every nerve in Specs’ body to hold back from kissing him immediately. Mush leaned in a little bit more.

“Yeah I-” He stopped, shutting his eyes briefly, before raising them to meet the dark brown ones ahead of him, “I’ll always have time for you…” It sounded cheesy and gross, even to his own ears, but it brought a fantastic smile to Mush’s lips.

And before Specs knew it, the barrier between them had been sealed, his breath hitching a little as Mush pressed his lips to his own in a gentle kiss. Specs melted into it, leaning in a little closer as Mush pulled away. 

Specs smiled and kissed him again, catching his lower lip between his own, and sucking lightly as he pulled away. Mush gasped and kissed him again, tightening his arms around Specs. Specs raised his hand to tangle his fingers into Mush’s long, soft hair, luxuriating in the texture. He loved the heat between them. It felt like fire, it felt like danger. But it also felt like compassion, and kindness. Every time Mush kissed him, grazing his lips with teeth, tongues beginning to dance together, he felt like he might fly away. He felt like his toes might leave the ground, if he didn’t have those strong arms around him. He kissed a little harder, pressing as close to Mush as he possibly could. 

He felt so ridiculously happy. 

Eventually, they both pulled away, gasping for air. It wasn’t uncomfortable like the first couple of times that they did it, but really a happy silence. He smiled up at Mush, wishing the moment could last forever. Mush smiled back at him, but his eyes were starting to look a little sad. Spes frowned, “Somethin’ the matter?” 

It was Mush’s turn to look away bashfully before stuttering out a little, “I don’t know how you do it.” 

Specs searched his boyfriend’s face, “How I do what?”

Mush shuddered a little, a bashful laugh filling what little air there was between them, before quietly whispering, “Make me fall in love with you more every day.” 

Suddenly, it felt like he was falling, unable to grasp onto anything. He blinked, his eyes widening, “...Love?” They hadn’t ever said that before. That was a new step. Sure, it had been a few months of fooling around, but...love was a big deal. Mush nodded his head, and met Specs’ eyes again.

Specs almost felt like he might cry, and his heart was in his throat. He didn’t know if he could possibly smile wider, “...I uh…” He coughed and looked away too. “I love you too, Mush…” The words felt right on his tongue. They felt more right than anything ever had. 

Suddenly, Mush had his hands cupped around Specs’ face, grinning like a madman as he rushed to kiss Specs. Specs returned the favor, laughing as they pressed their lips together again and again, until the rest of the world disappeared.

In that moment, everything was perfect.

  
  


_ Buttons:  _

  
  


Buttons grinned in satisfaction as the fire began to blaze. He stood up, brushed off his brown pants and watched it light up the small clearing in the forest. The sun had just barely gone down, indicating that they were still a few hours off from their next lesson. He hoped Jack wouldn’t be as late as he was last time, since the kids tended to get more antsy as the night went on. He sighed and sat down on one of the boulders they’d drug over near the firepit they’d built for the lessons so many years before. Applause filled the air, and he grinned as Snipeshooter bounced up and down in his spot.

“Wooo!! Buttons got the fire started!” He called out, racing over from where he was playing. He glanced at the fire, before beaming and giving Buttons a quick hug around his neck. It was hard to believe that Snipeshooter was already eleven years old. It was cute that he still ran over to him to give him hugs after he’d get the fire going. He hoped he’d always get them. 

“He always gets the fire started,” Finch laughed, sitting on the boulder beside him. He was currently picking at his slingshot (a self-proclaimed “most prized possession”). 

Buttons grinned and glanced over at Finch, raising an eyebrow, “What, do you wanna get it started next time?”

Finch just shook his head, his eyes going wide, “...No thanks.” And went back to his slingshot. Snipeshooter hopped over to him, peering at the object.

“Whatcha doin’, Finch?” He asked, looking down.

“Fastenin’ it with a new handle,” The older boy responded coolly, shrugging it off as if it wasn’t a big deal. This made Buttons grin, as he knew that it (in fact) was an enormous deal to Finch, considering he put so much time into it. 

“Ohhhh, cool!!” Snipeshooter grinned, “I’m real good with a slingshot too!” 

Finch had the grin of a triumphant father, “I know. I taught ya. Remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Snipeshooter said, fishing his own slingshot out of his pocket. Buttons sighed and looked forward, keeping a careful eye on Henry and Les, who were tumbling further off in the clearing. 

As far as Buttons could tell, Henry was attempting to teach Les a cartwheel, a feat that the elder boy had perfected over his years. Henry was a bouncy kid, always flipping around every which way, getting in trouble, getting hurt. Buttons wasn’t sure when he decided that he would take the great responsibility of making sure Henry didn’t break every bone in his body, but it was really wearing him thin. Of course, watching him spring around Les brought an overwhelming joy to Buttons. At the same time, Henry doing anything worried him to no possible end. The kid was adorable, he’d give him that, but he was the clumsiest cat in the litter. He could run around forever, doing frontflips and back handsprings, sliding into the splits (which no teen boy should be able to accomplish), but as soon as you’d give him an average task like walking, he’d break an ankle. You’d tell him to befriend a dragon, he’d get his pants burned right off of him. Buttons couldn’t even count how many new pairs of pants he’d had to make Henry throughout his childhood. 

Henry was bouncing up and down, eyes full of excitement and innocent wonder, “Ya did it!!!” He exclaimed. Les started bouncing with him.

“I did it!!! Did ya see me?!” Les smiled brightly, tugging on Henry’s shirt.

“You kidding?!” Henry leaned forward to ruffle Les’ hair, “Of course I saw ya.”

It made Buttons feel a little uneasy to see Henry acting so parental. Sometimes he forgot how old he was getting. Fourteen. Could Henry really be fourteen already? When he still acted like he was nine? It was weird to think that at some point, Henry would be considered to be one of the older boys. It was weird to think that at some point, Henry was going to get a job, and kiss somebody, and-

No, Buttons couldn’t think about that. It was just too damn weird. Henry, as far as he could tell, was going to be the immature little shit he was for all eternity. An immature little shit, with ridiculously messy hair, who was currently bounding towards him. 

“Buttons!!!” He called out, a childish merriment in his voice, “Did ya see?! Les got his cartwheel!” 

Buttons chuckled and shook his head, “Sadly, I missed it. Do you think he could do it again for me?” 

Les ran up behind Henry, his little legs stopping with a halt. He peered around Henry to smile at Buttons, “You really wanna see it?”   
“Of course I do,” Buttons responded incredulously. “And I bet Finch and Snipeshooter want to see it too.” He looked over at the two boys who briefly looked up from their slingshots. 

“Huh?” Finch blinked, clearly more invested in the little handle he was making for Snipeshooter’s slingshot. He gave a shy grin to Henry before saying, “Sure, let’s see how great of a teacher you are, huh?” 

“Better teacher than you could ever hope to be.” Henry muttered in response, wrinkling his nose at Finch. Buttons sighed, wondering if they would ever find a moment in time to stop bickering. Honestly, Finch was good for Henry. He had a good head on his shoulders, and enough patience to be able to deal with intense amounts of energy. 

Finch only rolled his eyes and leaned back a little, setting his slingshot down, “Whatever,” He waved Henry off, much to the younger boy’s shagrin. “Alright, show me what ya got, Les.” 

Buttons shifted his eyes back over to the youngest boy, who was currently standing straight, a brave scowl planted on his small face. “Alright, I got this.” Les convinced himself.

“Okay, remember how I taught ya…” Henry reminded him, smiling as he got in his position. 

Les nodded his head, reciting the instructions in a practiced beat, “Right arm, left arm, right leg, left leg, stick the landing!” 

“And if Henry’s telling the truth, you’ve already done it once. So you got nothin’ stoppin’ ya,” Buttons reassured, heart melting at the beaming smile it earned him from not only Les, but Henry as well. Les got into his starting position and closed his eyes taking a deep breath. The four other boys were watching intensely as Les opened his eyes and hurled himself forward. Buttons’ eyes followed him as he tossed his weight up into the air, shifted it from one hand to the other, then finally his foot and standing up.

Buttons burst into applause, and Finch, Snipeshooter and Henry quickly followed suit. Les had the look of pure, unadulterated triumph as he hopped over to hug each of them individually. Once Buttons received his hug, he turned to Henry, who was smiling like a fool. 

Finch laughed, pulling Les to his lap, “Guess you ain’t so bad of a teacher after all. Either that or ya had a good student.” Les laughed as he received a little noogie.

“Yeah, he’s pretty good at it. If you don’t watch out, he might beat you at the tumbling game,” Buttons warned teasingly, standing up to pat Henry on his shoulder. 

Les immediately furrowed his brow in defense, “That simply isn’t possible,” He said in a tone sounding far too much like his older brother, “Henry’s the best out there. He can do cartwheels without using his hands at all.” The nine year old defended seriously, staring Buttons down from where he perched on Finch’s lap. 

“Oh, is that so?” He mused, “I’ve never seen you do one of those before, Henry.” He turned his attention back to the messy haired boy, lifting his eyebrows. 

He could hear Finch sigh, “How? He does ‘em all the time.” 

Henry laughed, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah! I basically live on my hands instead o’ my feet.” He smiled proudly at Buttons, who could only flick his shoulder playfully.

“The challenge for you is walking on your feet without tripping, huh?” He snickered, poking at Henry’s side. The other three boys burst into laughter, while Henry jumped away from the touch, brow furrowed. 

“Hey!! Stoppit. At least I can do cool stuff,” He huffed.

Buttons sat down as Finch tried to stifle another laugh. Les leaned forward, bouncing a little on Finch’s knee, “Hey, Henry, you should show Buttons that you can do it!” 

“Buttons knows I can do it.” The curly haired boy glared briefly at Buttons.

He shrugged his shoulders, “No I don’t.”   
Henry wrinkled his nose, “Yeah, ya do…?”   
“Show me again. I forgot.” Buttons leaned back, folding his arms. 

“Fine, but only ‘cuz ya asked me to,” Henry tried to hide his smile behind thin exasperation. But Buttons knew how much the kid liked attention. Henry was quickly dashing forward, throwing his body upside down, his arms clenched to his chest, his legs perfectly straight and graceful, before he landed with a little bounce. The four boys applauded, and an impressed whistle sounded behind them. 

It was about time for the other boys to start arriving, but it still didn’t stop Buttons from feeling just the slightest bit of disgust from the tall one quickly approaching them, “Nicely done, Henry. Could work on the landing though,” Albert crooned, slithering across the forest floor to sit down on a rock beside Buttons. Buttons grimaced. Albert was realistically the worst out of all the boys in the village, with his slimy personality and infantile pranks. He had an eye for trouble, and a sharp sense of humor that always ended up hurting somebody. 

“Hi, Albert!” Henry smiled, bouncing over to him, and sitting on the ground, the glow of the fire making his skin look darker than it was. Henry was sweetly naive in nature, so it made sense for him to be overly enthusiastic towards any person who showed him any attention, “But my landing’s great, I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” 

Les waved from where he was sitting, and Snipeshooter sighed and went back to work on the handle for his slingshot. Buttons could see Finch narrowing his eyes slightly at Albert’s sudden appearance, shifting a little on his boulder. Albert lounged back, crossing his legs comfortably, “Mhm, of course…” Buttons grimaced--there was always something a little bit off with that guy, something that sent shivers down Buttons’ back. 

“You’re here early today, Albert,” Buttons interrupted before he could do any more damage to Henry’s ego than was already done. 

Albert cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah, I guess. I was gonna stay around the village, but Romeo said that if he saw me again until tonight, he’d beat the livin’ shit outta me,” He grinned, “Not that I wouldn’t mind a beatin’ from Romeo, of course, but. Not in the mood today.” 

Buttons’ eyes widened. Of course, he wasn’t surprised by the blatant sexual innuendo, but he still didn’t feel entirely comfortable with it. Albert only widened his grin in response, “Somethin’ the matter, boys?” Indicating that Buttons wasn’t the only one totally grossed out by Albert’s statement.

“Sure. Why would ya want Romeo to soak ya, huh?” Henry asked innocently, kicking his feet on the ground. Buttons felt himself almost choke, panic quickly filling his eyes. Finch looked over at him quickly, his eyes filled with equal worry as Albert leaned over in his spot. 

“Well, Hen, all beatin’ ain’t  _ bad _ ,” He purred, resting his elbows on his knees.

Buttons shot a look of  _ Do Not _ at Albert, who only winked at him and turned his attention to the younger boy, who pursed his lips together in confusion, “Seems all bad to me.” 

“Hmm...well maybe you need a lesson in how-” And that’s when it had to stop. Buttons silently reached over, and with one  _ very aggressive smack _ , sent Albert off of his rock. Finch visibly relaxed, and Les and Snipeshooter shot confused glances at one another. 

Henry jumped a little at Albert’s sudden fall, and looked back up at Buttons. Buttons shrugged and said, “He just likes the attention. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” To which Henry just gave a thumbs up, and went back to inspecting his feet. 

“I was just messin’ with ‘im,” Albert mumbled from the ground, looking a little disoriented as he stood up to brush off his pants. Finch looked uncomfortable for a minute before looking at his own slingshot again.

Buttons sighed, “Albert, no one wants to know about what you do in your spare time, believe me,” He almost gagged at the thought, actually, “And besides, you could find better ways to mess with him.”   
But as soon as the words exited his mouth, he knew it had been a mistake. Albert’s blue eyes were filled with venom, as he looked down at Henry, “Heya, Henry…” He cooed, his voice raspy, “You wanna hear that ghost story again?” 

A little bit of pain was starting to hit Buttons’ left temple. He was such an idiot. “I don’t think he does.” He muttered, reaching up to rub it, hoping the pain would disappear. 

Of course, Henry had to jump to his own defense, “Who says I doesn’t?” He snapped, and turned to Albert, “Yeah, I wanna hear the story again.” 

Finch raised his dark eyebrows and set his slingshot down, “You sure, Hen? Dontcha remember last time?” 

The question earned Finch a piercing glare from his younger friend, one Buttons had received far too many times, “Sure, I’m sure, dummy.” He looked between Finch and Buttons before folding his arms in a pout, “I ain’t that much younger than you guys. I can hear a dumb ghost story.” 

“I ain’t dumb, you’re dumb.” Finch started, picking Les up and setting him aside. Les hopped over to Buttons quietly and sat on his lap. Les was a pretty quiet kid. It was probably because he had to hear Davey chatter about meaningless stuff all the time. But Buttons didn’t mind, being a kind of quiet guy himself.

Henry wrinkled his nose, “You’re definitely dumber than me.” 

“Than  _ I _ ,” Finch corrected, chuckling a little before getting a punch on his calf. Henry stuck his tongue out up at him, grabbing his wrist and tugging him down. Finch landed with a little  _ oof _ , and socked Henry on his shoulder. “You knucklehead.” 

“Back at ya,” Henry smiled, bumping Finch’s shoulder with his own. Buttons grinned, glad he didn’t have to stop another fight between the two of them. He loved that Finch and Henry were friends, but they were always having one little spat or another. 

Albert groaned, probably hating that the attention was on anyone but him for any amount of time at all, “If you two dummies are done with your little makeout session, I’m ready to tell you the story.” 

Buttons kicked him from where he was sitting, “Leave ‘em alone, asshole. And we’re not interested in your stupid story.” In fact, he couldn’t possibly express how uninterested he was in Albert’s stupid story. He was intensely uninterested. Honestly, he’d rather jump off of the highest tree than have to hear it again.

“ _ Buttons _ ,” Henry whined, “Speak for yourself. If ya don’t wanna hear the story, go someplace else.” 

“I wanna hear the story!!” Les exclaimed, swinging his legs from his little rock. Buttons sighed, guessing there was no way to stop it at this point. He closed his eyes and accepted his headache, the pounding starting to mix with the beating of his own heart. He knew that Henry (although he pretended to be tough), hated this story. He knew that Finch hated it too, even though he claimed to have a “very adventurous spirit”. He could tell by the way he was picking the dirt out of his fingernails. 

“See?” Albert shook his head incredulously, “The people want what the people want.”   
Buttons paused, looking down to see Henry’s eyes pleading at him. He frowned, sighing out of his nose, “Fine. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, okay?”   
“Well, I ain’t gonna be scared this time so it won’t be a problem!!” Henry exclaimed, bringing his legs into a criss-cross applesauce position. Buttons felt his head tighten again and looked over to Albert. The snake was grinning from ear to ear. He leaned forward a little more, a look of pure evil dancing in his pale blue eyes.

Buttons hated him so much. He couldn’t even describe it. He looked down at his own hands, and started to pinch each of his finger tips. Whenever he got stressed out, it helped to keep his hands busy. Normally, he’d go out on the streets to search for misplaced buttons to collect for the Tailor, but he didn’t want to take a break just yet. He needed to stay where he was, so that Albert wouldn’t do anything rash. But he still was having a hard time breathing. It hurt him to see Henry act like an idiot. It hurt him that he couldn’t stop it. It hurt him that when Albert was a jackass to kids who didn’t know what they were getting into. 

The blue eyed boy cleared his throat, “So, the Little Prince of Bluerock,” Even from focusing on the pain in his fingertips, Buttons could see Henry’s grey eyes widen as he scooched forward. Finch was already trembling a little, and Snipeshooter didn’t even look like he was paying attention at all. Buttons turned his attention back to his hands. Thumb, pointer finger, middle finger… 

“Not long ago, Bluerock was ruled by an evil king,” Albert lowered his voice, “Everyone hated him. He would flog people in the streets, and burn the houses of anyone he decided to hate.” It suddenly felt a lot colder. Buttons reminded himself to breathe in and to breathe out. Albert continued, his raspy voice reckless and provocative, “It had been said that nothing could pierce the man’s heart, but then one day, his wife discovered she was pregnant.” 

Les gave a little gasp, “Does he kill her?” His eyes widened, leaning forward in his rock to hear the story more clearly.

“Shhh, Les, let ‘im finish,” Henry whispered, scooting closer to Finch ever so slightly.

“No, because he discovers that she will bear him a son through some sorta magic potion, I don’t remember,” Albert shooed them off from any questions they might possibly ask, “Now. People were real old fashioned back then. They thought that women was less than men, and a lot of other hokey stuff.” 

Buttons grimaced. That horror, at least, was true, even if the rest of the story potentially wasn’t. There were many things wrong with the past. Men feeling superior to women, people separating themselves by the tone of their skin. Terrible things. Things that should be forgotten, and never repeated. Not even in silly ghost stories told near fire sides. He dug his nails a little harder into his pinkie finger. 

The other boys were becoming more enraptured within Albert’s story, their eyes following every movement of his hands. The sky had gotten a lot darker, and the air was starting to get colder. “So the Queen gave birth to a little prince. He was real pretty too. The prettiest boy there ever was, a lotta the people would say.” His voice was still low, as if he were telling his most precious secret. Buttons shivered a little. But it was a cold night. The boys were quiet, which was rare. He could enjoy it for a minute while it lasted.

“So the prince grew up, but his father never let him leave his room. Every day, he’d look outside the window and say, ‘Papa, I wanna go outside’, but his father would always tell him that there was nothing out there.” 

“Why’d he do that?” Les asked, folding his little arms.

Albert shifted his gaze to Les, “Well, so that nothing from the outside world could ever hurt him.” He grinned, “But one day, a kitchen boy in the castle accidentally found the Prince’s room while adventurin’ around the castle. He was real into livin’ chancey, like Finch over here.” He grinned at Finch, who reasonably shivered and moved closer to Henry. Albert always compared the Kitchen Boy to Finch, and Finch always knew how the story went. Buttons wondered if Albert ever got sick of scaring the bejeezus out of kids. The spindly boy was truly a lout.

“Anyway, he found the Prince in his room, and the two guys immediately fall in love, since the Prince is real handsome, and since he’s never seen nobody his age before.” Albert continued, keeping his rhythm slow and his expressions perfected, “So the kitchen kid starts to visit him every day. He’d start to bring him stories of the outside world. Tell him about the mountains and the rivers, and the other people. And then? One day they start kissin’ and stuff. They’d lay on the Prince’s bed and-” 

Buttons could see Henry sport a look of disgust, “Eugh, don’t tell us ‘bout that part. Just get on with it.” 

Albert blinked over at him, amused, “What? Don’t like to think about kissing?” 

Henry shifted on his pockets, “Nah, s’ too gross. I ain’t never gonna kiss nobody.” 

The pale boy snorted, “Never say ‘never’, kiddo, you never know when-” 

Finch groaned, “C’mon, Albert, spit the rest of it out.” Buttons rolled his eyes. Sometimes the boys could all seem so much more mature than they could ever possibly be. It was hard to imagine any of them as adults. They could be so ridiculous sometimes. He realized that his fingers were starting to go numb, so he slid his hands into his pockets, fingering some of the colored buttons he’d collected from the streets earlier. 

Albert sighed and lifted up his hands in defense, “Sure, sure, no need to be so bossy, Birdbrains,” He jeered.

“What?! Hey-” Finch started, beginning to stand up, before he was stopped by a hand on his thigh.

“Just finish the darn story, Al!” Henry shoved Finch back down with a little thud, “But don’t call him names. That one wasn’t even clever!” 

“Yeah!” Les tagged on. Buttons chuckled.

“So go ahead, finish the story, Albert,” He grinned passive-aggressively. 

The storyteller squinted, and smacked his lips together distastefully, “Sure, okay. Where was I?” He paused a little before snapping his fingers, “Wait! Kissin’. Right. So he goes in there to kiss ‘im everyday. But as you all know, boys can’t be together with another boy in the eyes of the law.” Buttons cringed, he couldn’t help it. Personally, he favored men. That’s all there was to it. Simple, straightforward, and a part of who he was. Even if the law said it couldn’t be. But in the Capital, people were more understanding. At least in the Capital, he didn’t need to hide it about himself. Every one of his friends knew he preferred men, and he had yet to get any sort of hell about it. But it still cut his heart when Finch and Henry looked directly at him when Albert said it. But their attention was soon turned back to the ghost story. “So one day, when the Bad King was walkin’ through the castle, he hears little whisperings of love and compassion from his son’s room. And he walks in to find the two of ‘em getting all cozy.”   
Les was sitting on the edge of his seat, literally, and even Snipeshooter had looked up to listen. Henry and Finch were pressed up together, both trying not to shake, less the other boy find out their personal fear of the story. When Buttons looked at Albert, he saw his eyes were wild. “So he pries the kitchen kid off’a the prince, and sends him into the woods. No food, no comfort, nothin’.

“And the kitchen boy spends every one of his last days walkin’ through the forests, hopin’ he’ll find his lost love,” Albert continued, spinning his yarn flawlessly. Even Buttons had to admit that even though what Albert did was wrong, he did it pretty well. He felt himself even get lost in the sound of his terrible voice once or twice. “So one day, the Prince goes out of his room for the first time. He climbs off the balcony and runs to the forest. He searches for days and days, but doesn’t know where to find water or food. He’s dying. He makes it all the way to the forest we’re sittin’ in right now…” Les jumped a little bit, and Finch was starting to shake. Buttons watched as Henry placed a hand on his knee to quiet it. “Just to find his lost love layin’ down on the ground, dead.”

And that just about broke Les’s heart, from what Buttons could see. Albert continued relentlessly, “And it breaks his heart. He lays right down beside ‘im and dies. But. Both ghosts still haven’t found each other yet…” He looked up at the sky, “And rumor has it, that if you go into this forest late at night, with one other guy...spin around three times and lay on the ground next to one another...if your friendship is true, the ghosts will finally find one another. But if ya don’t really like each other, they’ll…” He paused before screaming “EAT YA UP!!”

Les jumped about fifty feet in the air, and even Buttons was startled, his breath getting ragged. He didn’t like surprises like that, even if he’d heard the story over a million times. He could remember a time when he and Albert came into the forest when they were young to find the ghosts. The Little Prince of Bluerock might as well have just eaten them both up. Then maybe he wouldn’t have had to put up with Albert’s bullshit for so long. Finch and Henry had their arms wrapped around each other, and scooted back immediately after realizing it. Snipeshooter had retreated behind his boulder. Albert was cackling.

“So what’ll it be, boys? You finally brave enough to try it?” He lifted an eyebrow at Henry, who turned to Finch and laughed a little uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, I’m brave enough. More than enough.” He grinned, but Buttons could see his hands were shaking, “Whaddabout you, Finch?” 

Finch was shivering, “Y-yeah, of course I am…” But his voice trailed off, revealing how he truly felt about the subject. 

“Great! Well, I expect you to do it then,” Albert grinned, “And let’s hope it goes better than last time, huh?” 

Buttons turned to them, “Listen, you guys. I don’t think that’s a good idea. At least wait until summer when it’s a little bit warmer, okay?”

“Don’t be a party pooper, Buttons!” Henry exclaimed, looking a little embarrassed. 

“Yeah, Buttons, don’t be a party pooper,” Albert purred from his side. He turned to him and shot him a glare.

“Listen, Albert, I let ya tell your dumb story. Tellin’ these guys to go out into the forest by themselves ain’t a good idea.”

“Why not? We’re old enough,” Henry said and looked at Finch, who quickly nodded in response, smiling. 

“It’s not about maturity, Henry, it’s about safety. Just. I don’t want you getting cold. You can do it, just wait a little while okay?” Buttons raised his eyebrows, making eye contact with Henry, dark eyes meeting light. Henry looked to the side and sighed. 

“Okay, fine, we’ll wait until a little bit later.” He frowned. Buttons grinned. He was glad that Henry could trust the advice he gave him, even if it was only every once and awhile. He smiled even wider as he heard the voices of other boys approaching. He was so ready to see his dragon again. 

But he didn’t notice the fingers crossed behind Henry’s back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I hope you liked it. This was a little bit of a more lighthearted chapter. In the next one, it'll start to get a LIIIIITTLE bit more intense. But not much. However, I PROMISE you that intensity is coming! Please remember to comment, DM, bookmark, give kudos or let me know if there's something I need feedback on.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


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